The Official sat in his office, impatiently checking his watch. Fawkes and Hobbes were fifteen minutes late. Eberts was on his cell phone; he had dialed Robert Hobbes’ cell number in an attempt to get his and Darien Fawkes’ whereabouts. No answer. The Keeper leaned in her chair and sighed. Just then, Fawkes and Hobbes burst through the door.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Hobbes apologized. “But I have a very good-“

“Stop!” the Official growled, holding up his hand. “I don’t want to hear it!” Darien and Bobby looked away from the fat man. The two were both glad they wouldn’t have to explain that they had stopped in a Hooters for lunch-at Darien’s insistence. No matter how much he covered, the Official seemed to always know everything. Darien turned to look at the far corner of the office, anywhere but the Official’s disapproving face, and saw a woman sitting in the corner. She turned her head away.

“Who’s that?” Darien asked.

“She is your assignment,” the Official responded.

“Excuse me?” Hobbes asked.

“She needs protection,” the Official answered. Bobby and Darien rolled their eyes.

“Um, Sir,” Hobbes began, “wouldn’t the witness protection program be a better alternative?”

“No!” said the woman, getting up from the chair and walking towards them. “I refuse to give up my identity. In short, I refuse to give up my life.” Bobby gazed up at her; she was much taller than he. Attractive and a bit plump, but tall. She held out her hand to him. “I’m Angel Boyce.” Bobby shook it hesitantly. “I’m not gonna bite,” she said. He grinned.

“Bobby Hobbes,” he said. Angel’s smile froze and she took a step back. She’d heard of him at the FBI, though usually as the butt of jokes. Bobby noticed her sudden unease, but tried to ignore the prickly situation. “This is my partner, Darien Fawkes.” Darien shook Angel’s hand and said hi.

“I’m sorry you’ve been given a baby-sitting job,” she said apologetically.

“Nonsense,” replied the Official. “It’s an honor to do this favor for an old friend.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Angel said quietly.

“Sir,” Darien began, “exactly what does Miss Boyce need protection from?” Angel’s eyes widened and she looked at the Official. He smiled.

“This is a need-to-know case,” he responded vaguely. “I can only tell you that Miss Boyce has unintentionally acquired sensitive information.”

“But, um, Sir,” Bobby began.

“That’s all you’re gonna get!” the Official interrupted. Darien and Bobby sighed. Eberts gave them their orders to drive Angel to a house owned and operated by the Agency, where she could find safe haven while her case pended. The two partners escorted Angel to the van outside. As they walked down the hall, they both sized her up. She wore a white long-sleeved ribbed shirt with a V-neck collar, dark blue denim boot-cut jeans, and black chunky shoes that made her look even taller than she was. Despite his reluctance to become a bodyguard, Hobbes nevertheless admitted to himself that Angel could indeed be on the level. He could sense something totally transparent about her. Hell, she obviously knew who he was and showed it.

Darien and Bobby led her to the van outside. As they began to cross the street to take her bags to the van, Angel stumbled on the sidewalk. While she tried to gain her balance after the near-fall, she dropped her purse in the middle of the street. As she leaned over to pick it up, a car came to a screeching halt in front of her. Angel gasped and ran to the van. Darien and Bobby had seen all this; Darien opened the door for Angel and asked if she was OK while Bobby shook his head. The Official’s words about Angel “unintentionally acquiring sensitive information” rang in his head and realized they now had the custody of a big klutz.

About fifteen or so minutes later, the three had arrived at the Agency’s house. It was a small non-descript house near a park. Bobby sauntered up to the front door, unlocked it, and let Angel in.

“This will be your new home, for the time being,” he announced. They all entered and looked around. The house had very little furniture-second-hand couches and surveillance equipment scattered all over the living room were covered in plastic. Most other rooms were empty.

“Sorry it’s not a palace,” Darien joked lightly.

“This place was obviously decorated by men,” Angel observed dryly.

“Just the bare necessities,” Bobby said, removing the plastic from a couch. “All the comforts of home.” They noticed a small mouse scurry past them.

“And more,” Angel added rather absent-mindedly. “Does the phone work?”

“It does,” Bobby answered. She nodded. He walked to the door, stopped and turned around. “OK, cut the crap! What do you know, anyway?”

“Hobbes,” Darien scolded.

“No, I gotta know what’s going on; who I’m protecting and why,” he said. Angel glared at him.

“Fine. I’ll tell you. I was a government clerk and a secretary in the FBI,” she revealed. “I literally stumbled on to a bunch of secrets over the past three years working there.”

“Secrets, huh?” Bobby repeated. “But I don’t get it; why aren’t you in jail or something? Wouldn’t you get in trouble knowing what you know?”

“I got friends in high places,” Angel shrugged. “My boss is the Director of the criminal investigation unit, and I’ve always been on good terms with him. He knows I’m trustworthy, so he made me sign some affidavits confirming that I’d keep my mouth shut.”

“Is your Director the friend that the Fat Man was talking about?” Darien asked.

“Yes,” Angel answered. “And we’ll leave it at that.” She walked to the window and looked out. God, why was she doing that? She was a clerk, for cryin’ freakin’ out loud! It’s not like she knew how to spot if anyone was watching her. “I’d like you to leave now,” she said flatly. She was going to start crying and didn’t want the two strangers to see her do that.

“OK,” said Bobby. He reached into his pocket and gave her his card. “If you need us, for any reason, just call.” He held it out to her, but she wouldn’t turn around. He placed it on the coffee table. He and Darien walked out the door. They got into the van and drove off. However, Bobby drove only a block, made a right turn, and parked the van.

“What are you doing?” Darien asked.

“Go see what she knows,” he stated.

“What?”

“You know, do your thing and get me some info.”

“But you-“

“Just do it, dammit!” Bobby barked, giving Darien a good hard stare. Darien shrugged.

“OK, fine,” he said, annoyed. He opened the door and faded as he shut it. A few minutes later he returned to the house. He peeked inside the front window and saw Angel sitting on the couch; she was sobbing. Can’t be easy, Darien mused. He walked to the back door, removed the key from his pocket, shook off the Quicksilver from it, and quietly opened the door. He walked down the hallway and peeked into the living room. Angel got up and headed to the kitchen. Darien moved out of the way, making sure she wouldn’t bump into him. She calmed herself and picked up the phone.

“Hello, operator?” she said. “I’d like to place a long-distance call to Boston.” She gave the operator some numbers and waited. Darien quietly inched closer. He caught most of her conversation.

“Hello, Mom? It’s me… I can’t tell you where I am… I’m in trouble… No, right now, I’m OK, I got protection … I can’t tell you… I wanna go home! … Ma, me hace falta tu arroz y frijoles… Si, yo se…”

Wait, “arroz y frijoles”? I think I know that, Darien thought, racking his brain for the little Spanish he cared to learn in high school. Oh, yeah-rice and beans! What’s that got to do with anything? As he moved closer, another mouse ran past him. Surprised, he tried to jump over it, but lost his balance and fell with a hard thud that caused the Quicksilver to fall off. Angel hung up the phone and screamed at the intruder. She could hardly move or talk as she watched Darien scramble to his feet and run out of the house. He ran down the street and jumped into the van.

“Drive!” he yelled. Bobby took off.

“What happened?” Bobby asked.

“I tripped and the Quicksilver came off,” he admitted. “She saw me run out.”

“That’s just great,” Bobby muttered. “What did you hear?”

“Nothing, really,” Darien answered. “She made a call to Boston and talked to her mother.”

“Did she tell her mother anything?”

“No. Just told her how scared she is, but she can’t tell her anything. Did you know Angel speaks Spanish?”

“Spanish, really,” Bobby replied. “Didn’t you take Spanish in high school?”

“How’d you know that?”

“Did you think I’d let them assign me a partner from out of the blue? I looked at all your stats,” Bobby revealed matter-of-factly. Darien said nothing; he was annoyed by this invasion of privacy. “So did you understand any of it?”

“My Spanish ain’t all that great.”

“Why? Were you sick that day?”

“No,” Darien retorted with a smirk. “I was skipping school that day.” Bobby rolled his eyes.

“So what’d she say?”

“I don’t know. Something about rice and beans.”

“Rice and beans?” Hobbes thought about it for a moment. “Maybe that has something to do with what she knows.”

“What?”

“I got it! Maybe she found out about a top-secret experiment. Maybe some sicko is trying to contaminate the nation’s supply of rice and beans with a mind-altering drug.”

Darien didn’t know whether to laugh or slap Hobbes. He hated himself later for then asking, “And how would this sicko be able to do that to get people addicted?”

“At a Spanish food restaurant,” Bobby stated emphatically. “I don’t know… Ah! Taco Bell!”

“Taco Bell?”

“Yeah,” Bobby said. Darien rolled his eyes.

“You need to take your chill pill.”

“What? What?! It could happen.”

“I don’t get it, Hobbes. The Official said this is on a need-to-know basis only. You’re the one who gave me this whole lecture on how I don’t need to worry about stuff I don’t need to know ‘cause if I needed to know it, I’d know. Blah, blah, blah. Why do you suddenly want to know?”

“Because I’m no bodyguard! So she knows a lot of ‘sensitive’ stuff; big deal! Why doesn’t she just go home? Why all the secrecy for her?” He kept driving, but they fell silent. “Aw, crap!”

“Now what?” Darien asked. “Did you realize that your Taco Bell idea was bullshit?”

“No, I just realized that now Angel knows another big secret,” Bobby sighed. Darien sat back in his seat and stared quietly ahead.

“Me,” he said.

An hour later, the two agents reported back to the Agency. The Official was calm but pissed, his usual demeanor. Angel was there with him, sitting in a chair in front of his desk. When Darien and Bobby entered the room, Angel’s flashing eyes pierced them. Darien and Bobby averted their eyes from the Official, Angel, and each other.

“I’m sure you know why you’re here,” the Official began. They nodded. “What the hell were you doing at the house? Do you both realize that Miss Boyce is not cleared to know about Quicksilver? We can’t have accidents happen like this again! You’re supposed to protect her, not scare her!”

“Some protection,” Angel snorted. “What kind of protectors am I getting here?! You set me up with a nut and… and…” Everyone looked at Darien, but remained silent. Suspicious, Angel yelled, “What? Is there another big secret about these agents?”

“She ought to know, I guess,” Darien sighed. The Official reluctantly but tactfully explained that Darien was an ex-convict. Angel’s mouth dropped and she bolted for the door. Bobby stopped her from leaving.

“Miss Boyce,” the Official continued, “I can assure you that you are in extremely good hands. Agent Fawkes is a rehabilitated convict.” Angel looked at the floor and sat again in the chair, with trepidation.

“OK, well, the Director certainly wouldn’t put me in danger,” she reasoned. “If he trusts you guys to protect me, then maybe I can trust you too.”

“I’m not finished with you two yet,” the Official pointed at Fawkes and Hobbes. Bobby braced himself.

“Sir, I know what my duty in this case is and under any other circumstances I would gladly do it. But I can’t be kept in the dark. Not this time. I need to know what’s going on, so I can figure out a plan. So that Agent Fawkes and I can know our next move, to better protect Miss Boyce.”

“No, you’re not-“ the Official barked.

“Wait!” Angel interrupted. “I’ll do it. I’ll tell you.” All eyes turned to her. “I was witness to the murder of a federal agent. Specifically, the murder of Agent Jack Hudson.”

“Jack Hudson?” Bobby repeated, suddenly feeling hollow in his stomach. Angel nodded. Shit, he thought. Not him; he was a good guy. The only guy I ever knew who gave me the benefit of doubt. He rubbed his forehead. “Who did it?”

“That’s all I want to say.”

“Angel, we need to know,” Darien prodded gently.

“If it was some schmo Hudson was aiming to bust, we can get him like that,” Bobby snapped his fingers.

“No, it’s complicated,” Angel said.

“Hey, no criminal can…” Bobby said.

“No, you don’t understand!” Angel protested. “He was murdered by another agent!” They all fell silent.

“What?” Bobby said after a moment.

“I’ve said too much,” she said getting up. Darien put his hand on her shoulder.

“No, we can help you,” he said. “Please sit down.” She looked at him; despite what she’d been told about his background, he seemed the most sincere out of them all. She swallowed her guard and sat down. She looked at Hobbes; the glow of the afternoon light had turned his hard eyes into a softer honey-brown. What the hell, she thought.

“It started three days ago,” she began. “I was in the supply room…”

… looking for paper for the FAX machine and pens for her desk. The pens were unusually hard to find, so she found herself looking in a corner behind a storage shelf. She heard some people come in. She quietly peeked through the shelves and saw three agents enter. She recognized two of them; the third had his back to her. She stayed right where she was, afraid of them seeing her now that they’d started an argument. One agent was Jack Hudson, the FBI’s top man. He was honest and hard working. The other agent was Hudson’s rival, Michael Perry. Perry was under investigation for botched routine arrests and suspected bribery.

“What else is there to say between us, Perry?” Hudson shouted. “I know you did it. You won’t get away with it!”

“You little pisser!” Perry hissed. “You’ve been on my ass since Quantico! Who made you God Almighty?”

“Who made you? You shot that cop and you know it! He found evidence at that crime scene that you were taking kickbacks from the perps! You shot him and you stole the evidence!”

“So what do you want me to do?” Perry sneered. “Admit it? Look around, there’s nobody here.” Angel held her breath, crouching in her unseen corner. “Look at what I got.” He said that in an almost sing-song voice. He then pulled out a gun; Hudson’s mouth dropped as he realized Perry was holding Hudson’s own gun. He searched in vain for the gun that was supposed to be in his holster. “Good-bye.” Perry shot Hudson once in the heart. Angel covered her mouth to keep from screaming. She watched, horrified, as Hudson’s body slumped into the third agent’s arms.

“Let’s get outta here,” the third man warned. Perry nodded. They dragged him past the shelf where Angel was hiding and opened the door to the broom closet. Angel tried quietly to get up; she tip-toed past them, opened the door and ran as fast as she could…

“They probably didn’t see me, but they heard me,” Angel continued. “I ran into the ladies’ room, and heard them run right past it. I waited there for twenty minutes, afraid to go anywhere…”

… until finally another woman entered the bathroom to wash her hands. Angel asked if she’d see anyone in the hallways. The woman said no, and Angel ran out.

With her heart nearly leaping out of her chest and her head throbbing, she ran to the Director’s office. Her flustered and wild-eyed appearance concerned him. She began to sob and tried to explain that she’d seen something and now she was in MAJOR trouble. The Director tried to get her to say what she saw, but she refused to tell. Her fear alone was enough to sway him.

He decided to let her stay at his guest house that night; he drove her home first and let her pack her bags. She kept muttering over and over that she needed to hide, to get away.

That night as they both sat in his living room, the Director kept trying to figure out how to help Angel. Then the phone rang.

“Hello?” he said. “What? … Hudson’s dead? … How? … Suicide? … His own gun? … Thanks.” He hung up, returned to the living room and sat down. “Why would Hudson do that?” he asked aloud. The Director looked at Angel; her eyes were wide and her body had stiffened. She struggled to breathe. The Director then began to put two and two together. “No, Hudson would never… Holy shit!” He got up from his chair, and Angel began to cry. “Oh my god, we gotta get you… Wait, I have an old friend in the West Coast. I’ll call him. Wait here!” He ran to get his phone and dialed quickly. The Fat Man’s voice answered.

“Hello?”

“It’s me. I need a favor…”

“… And that’s how I ended up here,” Angel finished. Bobby’s arms were folded across his chest.

That shit-heel Perry, he fumed silently. Michael Perry was one of his worst enemies; Hobbes knew a crook when he saw one. Of course, no one believed nutty little Bobby Hobbes. No one, that is, except Jack Hudson. Bobby might have had his reputation for being short a screw, but at least he was honest. After Bobby was terminated, he heard that Hudson began doing his own investigation on Perry. There was nothing more despicable than a fed on the take, but a fed that would shoot one of his own? Bobby’s blood boiled. If I find that fucker Perry, he thought, I’ll nail him to the wall.

“Are you sure Michael Perry knows you’re the witness?” Darien asked Angel.

“I’m not taking any chances,” she replied. “I may not be at the top of the totem pole there, but at least everyone knows who I am. If Perry notices that I’m not there, he’ll get suspicious.” Darien looked at Bobby; here was another victim of paranoia.

“It’s only been a few days,” Darien assured her. “He can’t be that smart if he got caught taking bribes.” Angel ran her fingers through her hair.

“Well, I guess…” she said hesitantly.

“No! The world’s full of psychos like Perry,” Bobby cried. “He’s not gonna get away with this! Angel, you got our full protection. Starting now.”

The next afternoon, Hobbes drove back to the Agency’s house. Bobby knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again. Still no answer. He took out his gun and unlocked the door.

“Angel?” he called out. “Angel!” He looked around, gun firmly in hand. He checked each room; all her things were in place.

“Agent Hobbes?” Angel said behind him. He jumped and pointed his gun at her. She gasped, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he put his gun down.

“Where the hell were you?” he demanded.

“It’s Sunday… I was at church,” she answered timidly.

“Church?” he repeated. “Where?”

“It’s the charismatic church five blocks from here,” she answered. Just then Fawkes walked in.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Looks like we got ourselves a little church-goer,” Bobby retorted sarcastically.

“So?” Darien said. He looked at Angel; she was glaring at Hobbes.

“You need to tell us where you are at all times,” Bobby ordered. “Church? C’mon; are you kidding me?”

“What’s your problem?” Angel snapped. Bobby was taken aback by the sudden tone of her voice. “This is the first time in almost a week that I feel safe by myself! Church is the safest place I know.” She paused. “If you were so concerned, maybe you should’ve come with me.”

“No, Bobby Hobbes does not do church,” he said shaking his head.

“Why not?” she pressed.

“Don’t go there,” Darien murmured to her.

“Shut up, Fawkes! You wanna know why? The world is full of three types of people: idiots, criminals, and hypocrites. Churches are full of the latter,” Bobby ranted. Angel put her hands on her hips.

“Hypocrites?” she cried. “You think I’m a hypocrite?” Bobby remained silent. “You don’t even know me! Where do you get off? You think you’re some super-agent, acting all tough and… and…” She struggled to find the right insult. “You think you’re so street wise, don’t you, you Robert DeNiro wannabe? Well, go screw, you little wicked pissah!”

“Robert DeNiro?” Bobby repeated angrily. “You talkin’ to me?” Darien bit his lip, stifling a laugh.

“I’m not finished,” Angel said. “Are you afraid to go to church because you’ll find a reason to stop being mad at the world?” Bobby put his hands in his pockets and turned around.

“Will you be going anywhere else today?” he asked calmly but sternly.

“No,” she replied curtly. Darien looked at Angel, then at Hobbes. The awkwardness of this situation made him want to Quicksilver out of there. But he suspected Angel might be right about Hobbes. What if church could make him less of a hard ass? He believed in God, he guessed. He wondered if Hobbes believed too. Not that everything would change in an instant if Hobbes did go to church, even once. Was it worth it?

“Um, you guys?” Darien began after that long silence. “How about if I go get us some lunch?” Angel just nodded and sat on the couch.

“Knock yourself out,” Bobby said. Darien rushed out. He got into his car and drove off. He barely noticed the man sitting in the blue sedan across the house. The man watched as Darien drove away. He then drove away too. He took out his cellular phone and dialed.

“It’s me,” he said. “I found her… Yes, I’m sure it’s her… She’s being protected… Two guys; one I don’t know. Get this, the other guy is Robert Hobbes… Yeah, maybe you can kill two birds with one stone… Uh huh, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hung up.

Bobby was still burning from what Angel had said. He wanted to leave, but his duty required him to stay guarding Angel. What did that bitch know anyway? He felt a pang of guilt; no, she wasn’t really a bitch. In her own way, she was just trying to help. He sighed and reluctantly sat on the couch opposite Angel.

“Look,” he began, “I’m sorry I yelled at you like that. I had no right.” She listened. “I’m dedicated to what I do; I bring in the bad guys and make sure they don’t hurt no one else. I thought you were putting yourself at risk, but apparently you’re OK.” He held out his hand. “Truce?”

“OK,” Angel said slowly. She shook his hand, and chuckled sheepishly. “And I’m sorry I called you a little wicked pissah.” Bobby grinned.

“What does that mean anyway?” he asked. She smiled and shrugged.

“It’s a Bostonian expression; even we don’t know what it means sometimes.” She sat back and sighed. Bobby didn’t know why, but at that moment he felt like he was looking at her for the first time again. Now he could really see what she looked like as a calm, real person. He hadn’t even noticed her eyes before-hazel-green and so innocent. Those eyes should have never seen such an awful crime. Her light skin glowed with a rosy hue; her thick and smooth brown hair seemed so soft. And her small, but full pink lips…

“Hey, you two,” Darien called from outside. His sudden return startled Angel and Bobby. “Can someone open the door? I got my hands full here!” Bobby got up and went to open the door. Darien strolled in holding two large brown bags.

“What’s that?” Bobby asked.

“Chinese food,” Darien answered cheerfully.

“Chinese?” Angel repeated. She closed her eyes and touched her stomach. “Urghh…” she groaned.

“Don’t like Chinese?” Bobby asked.

“No, I do, but all the tension these past few days has been eating at my stomach,” she explained. She grabbed her purse from the floor and took out a prescription phial. She opened the top and took out a caplet.

“What’cha got there?” Darien asked.

“Prilosec,” she answered. Darien refrained from grinning. Another pill-popper, he thought, looking directly at Hobbes. “I think I’ll just lie down,” she said, and left the room.

Later that evening, Darien got ready to go home. “You comin’?” he asked Bobby.

“Nah, I’m going to stay a little longer,” Bobby said. “You know, make sure she’s OK.” Darien raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and left. Angel was sitting on the couch, her face resting on her fist. “You feel better?” Bobby asked as he sat next to her.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” she said. She glanced at him and smiled. He grinned. What is it about him? she wondered. He’s too short, bald, and probably a lot older than me, but he’s kinda cute. “Let’s get outta here. I could use the fresh air.”

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

“Let’s just go for a walk,” she suggested.

They took a stroll around the neighborhood. Angel tried to get him to talk about himself, but Bobby chose to crack jokes instead. There was too much he didn’t want to reveal about himself. But she was willing to listen, and Bobby appreciated that. He felt funny, though, walking next to a woman who towered over him. They soon returned to the house.

“Do you mind if I stay a little longer?” Bobby asked a tad timidly.

“No, I don’t mind,” Angel replied. She sat down on the couch, and he joined her. He was starting to truly like her. She bashfully looked at him and smiled as she leaned back. He leaned back as well. She hesitated to do what she wanted to do, but she couldn’t help herself. She raised her hand and began to caress his cheek. Bobby closed his eyes. Her warm hands felt soft, and she had a gentle touch. It had been too long since a woman had intimately touched him. Not since Vivian. Could he feel for Angel as he had felt for his ex-wife? Or would Angel stomp on his heart too? The sudden flood of questions and emotions triggered Bobby’s instincts, making him want to recoil from Angel’s touch. Gotta protect himself, after all. In the end, it didn’t matter what he did because Angel had stopped. He opened his eyes. She got up; she wasn’t smiling anymore.

“It’s late, Bobby,” she said quietly. He took the hint. He got up, walked to the door, and gave Angel one last lingering look before walking out.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow,” he said.

“OK. Good night.”

“Good night,” he said, as she closed the door.

When Bobby got home, he went into his bathroom and looked in the mirror. Great goin,’ Hobbes. She saw right through you and you fucked it up, he thought to himself. He threw himself on his bed without bothering to change. He rested his head on his hands and wondered why God had made him such a friggin’ paranoiac. Why had the church talk bothered him so much, anyway? It’s not like he’d ever, ever, been taken to church in his whole life. Still, he regretted saying that only hypocrites went to church. What church-goers did he know? He only knew (or thought he knew) people like Jim Baker and Jimmy Swaggert. He remembered when the scandals broke out, he was sickened by their actions and betrayals. Years later,he heard that Baker at least seemed to reform, but Swaggert never did. Nah, Bobby only knew a bunch of rhetoric.

Angel wasn’t a hypocrite, and he was sorry he’d even implied that she might be. To her face, no less. He knew from the moment he met her that she was the real thing. You couldn’t fake that kind of transparency; not many people these days were like that. He also admired that she had the balls to argue with him, to stand up to him. Vivian didn’t argue with him; she accused him and yelled at him a lot, but she never listened to him long enough to clear things up.

Nah, I’m not falling for this girl, Bobby assured himself. She’s cute and she touched me; so what? But back to this God question. He didn’t ask or choose to be this way; suspicion, mistrust, or whatever you want to call paranoia seemed as natural as hunger-you have to give in to it or you die. He only stopped to consider God, like, twice in his entire life. Why start now? Because he was still alive, that’s why. He had fuzzy memories of that time he’d fallen off the fire escape, but Darien remembered. Long after Bobby had recovered, Darien admitted that his heart nearly stopped when he saw a large pool of blood coming from Bobby’s head after the fall.

Why did he survive and not Dr. Dean Carver? After all, Bobby fell on a concrete surface; Dr. Carver fell on top of a rusty car. Bobby could’ve suffered serious brain damage, or even died, but he emerged from the accident completely aware (albeit a little confused) and able-bodied. Dr. Carver turned into a vegetable. Now he couldn’t tell if his life was a blessing or a curse. He hated, hated, being paranoid and popping lithium all the time. Well, it’s not like he gave his paranoia much thought, but the daily medication and Darien’s jokes at his expense were constant reminders that he was not normal. His unstableness destroyed his marriage and his career. Well, only his career with the FBI. They were a bunch of assholes anyway. Except Jack Hudson. On the other hand, he was being the good guy. Right? Yeah, he was catching the bad guys, making sure justice was preserved and the safety of the people protected. Yada, yada, yada…

He covered his face with his hands. Damn it! I don’t want to think about this, he groaned inwardly.

The next morning Bobby returned to the house. He knocked on the door. Angel opened and smiled briefly when she saw him.

“Come in,” she said. He entered cautiously. He sat on the smaller couch in the living room. She sat on the larger couch. She cleared her throat. “Agent Hobbes, I just want to say I’m sorry about last night. What I did was inappropriate, and I sensed you didn’t appreciate it. It’s like your mind was elsewhere.”

Shit, she did see right through me, he thought.

“Suffice to say,” she continued, “I’m embarrassed.” She paused, then held out her hand. “Truce?” Bobby grinned.

“Sure,” he agreed and shook her hand. Her cold and trembling hand.

A few minutes later, Darien was driving towards the house. He noticed a blue sedan that cut him off as he was about to turn at the corner of the street. Dickhead, he fumed. He made the turn, and saw that the sedan double-parked next to Hobbes’ van. Darien slowed down and parked two houses away. He rolled the window down and watched as two suited men got out of the sedan. One knocked on the door, the other hid behind him. Angel opened the door. The man at the door said something that sounded like…

“If I could just take a moment of your time, Miss, to show you a revolutionary new product,” he said smiling forcibly.

“No, thank you,” Angel answered politely. She didn’t know why, but this man’s face seemed vaguely familiar. “I’m not interested.” She was about to close the door, but Michael Perry stepped into view and pulled out his gun. Angel’s mouth dropped.

“I wouldn’t close the door if I were you, Angel,” Perry sneered as he entered the house.

Darien saw the gun, and jumped out of the car. Making sure no one was in sight, he sent a mental nudge to the gland and let the Quicksilver wash over his body. He ran to the back yard.

Once inside, Michael Perry and his cohort aimed their guns at Angel. Bobby got up from the couch and reflexively reached for his gun. He aimed at Perry.

“Robert Hobbes,” Perry smirked. He looked at the little man holding the gun. “Put it down, Hobbes. I believe two guns outnumber one.”

“No way,” Bobby said firmly.

“Agent Hobbes, please put it down!” Angel pleaded.

“Come on, Hobbes, don’t be a tight ass, put it down,” Perry taunted. Bobby looked at Angel, her eyes begging for help. He figured Fawkes was probably around somewhere, so he complied and set the gun on the floor. “Good boy, Hobbes,” Perry said. “Get over here.” Bobby joined Angel. “OK, now we’re going to take a little walk.” He grabbed Angel’s arm and poked the gun in her side. The second agent grabbed Bobby and did the same to him. The agents led them to the back door and outside into the park.

Where the hell is Fawkes? Bobby wondered impatiently. “Nice going, Perry,” he said angrily. “What? You’re gonna shoot us in broad daylight? That’s real smart. Smarter than shooting a guy in the supply room.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Perry yelled. He glared at Angel. “So you did open your big mouth, you bitch.” Angel lowered her eyes and held back the tears. As soon as the agents found an out-of-the-way spot, Perry ordered Angel and Bobby to turn around and kneel.

“Please, God,” Angel whispered. Perry didn’t hear that, but Bobby did.

This is the ultimate test to see if You’re out there, Bobby challenged, looking up at the sky. Perry and the agent screwed silencers onto their guns. As the second agent aimed at Bobby, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Surprised, he turned around, only to feel a blow to his stomach, then to his face. Perry stared in amazement, but then he too felt something punch him in the stomach. He fell to the ground doubled over. The second agent reached for his fallen gun, but Darien kicked him in the face. Confused but determined to stick to his plan, Perry picked up his gun and put his finger on the trigger. He felt something grab his hand; he struggled to aim at Angel and managed to pull the trigger. Then he felt a swift kick in his chest and blacked out.

Darien shed off the Quicksilver and looked for Hobbes and Angel. Hobbes had taken out his cell phone and was ordering an ambulance. He was leaning over Angel, who was lying on the ground with blood spilling out of her shoulder. Darien knelt down and helped Bobby pick her up. She was absolutely shocked; Darien took off his jacket and placed it on her wound. They led her back to the house. Angel was hyperventilating; her wild, red eyes struggled to stay open. When they arrived at the house’s backyard, an ambulance and two cruisers were waiting.

“What took you so long?” Bobby screamed. The paramedics and the officers rushed towards them, and Angel collapsed. Everything else started to happen too fast. The paramedics strapped Angel onto a stretcher as Fawkes led the policemen to the spot where Perry and the agent were lying. Bobby decided to follow Fawkes as the EMT’s quickly wheeled Angel away.

Later in the hospital, Angel woke up. She looked around and momentarily forgot what she was doing there. She tried to rise up, but a sharp piercing pain in her shoulder prevented her from making any more movements. Great, I’m all alone, she sighed. She heard a soft knock at the door. “Come in.”

Agent Hobbes entered hesitantly. He came to her side and sat down. Angel was relieved to see him; she still felt silly for what she’d done, but here he was.

“The doctor says you’re lucky to be alive,” he announced after a moment’s silence. Angel half-grinned. “Yeah, you must be feeling real lucky now, all shot up with two half-assed agents who were supposed to be protecting you.”

“I don’t believe in luck,” she said flatly. “It could’ve been a lot worse.” Bobby couldn’t look at her. So optimistic! Ugh! He shook his head. He had seen Perry struggling with his gun (an invisible Fawkes obviously holding him back); he should’ve at least tried to shield her, taken the bullet, or even run off with her. He fucked up again. He looked at her.

“A lot worse, huh?” he repeated. “It could’ve been a lot better if I had done my job.” He paused awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” she said quietly. Bobby raised his eyebrows, then he lowered his head and shook it again. He got up and walked out. He saw Fawkes coming down the hall with a small bouquet of flowers. They stopped and looked at each other. Bobby then walked right past Fawkes.

Hobbes sat on a bench in the park and again pondered the meaning of life. He remembered the time he’d been infected with the retrovirus, and the euphoric feeling it gave him. Bobby’s skin tingled at the memory. He knew everything, he understood everything; so much, too much that he would have eclipsed himself in a whirlwind of knowledge, information, ideas and the like if Fawkes hadn’t stopped him by risking his own life. If God let Bobby live after all he’d been through (being attacked by Darien in his Quicksilver Madness moments, the fall, the virus), then it was all for a good cause. Right? Yeah, OK; it made him feel better to think that. To think that his life mattered to someone, even if that Someone had no tangible presence.

Later that evening, Bobby decided to return to the hospital. He flashed his badge and was easily allowed in after visitors’ hours were over. Angel was up, trying to get a jacket on.

“What are you doing?” Bobby asked.

“I gotta get back to Boston,” she whined. As she struggled to get the jacket on, she howled in pain. Bobby ran to her side and tried to get her to sit down.

“You’re in no shape to go anywhere,” he advised gently but sternly. He noticed her teary eyes. “What’s wrong?” She sniffled.

“I called home today after Agent Fawkes had left,” she started, “and I was told that Perry made a visit to my parents two days ago, just after I had called my mom. My dad’s in the hospital; they beat him so hard he’s got internal bleeding. And my mom’s got a broken arm.” She bit her lip.

“Oh no,” Bobby sighed. He hugged her. It was so unlike him to comfort another person, but he felt a need to be so in spite of himself. He held on to her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. “Michael Perry will never hurt anyone again-you have my word. But you need to get yourself better first. You can’t get shot and expect to just run off the same day. I know-I’ve tried.” He smiled and she chuckled.

“Thanks, Agent Hobbes.”

“You should get some rest.”

“I will. Before you go, do you think you and Agent Fawkes can come and keep me company? Even if it’s just for a few days… Please?” She smiled pleadingly.

“Sure thing,” he agreed. “Good night, Angel.” He was about to exit, but remembered one thing and turned around. “Um, wait a minute. Angel, today when you said things could’ve been worse, what did you mean?”

“Well, I could’ve been killed,” she responded slowly. Then she brightened. “But I’m alive. I guess I still haven’t accomplished God’s purpose.”

“Which is…?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m still young; I still got time to figure it out.”

“Give me a call when you find out,” he grinned.

“I will,” she agreed. “Good night, Agent Hobbes.”

“Good night, Angel,” he said again. He walked out and quietly closed the door behind him.

The next morning, Bobby returned to the hospital. To his surprise, he found the doctor and some nurses wheeling Angel’s bed out of the room.

“Hi, Angel,” Bobby said. “What’s going on here?”

“I asked to be transferred to a hospital in Boston,” she replied. Bobby was quiet for a moment.

“Is it because of your family?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she answered.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I have to.”

“Well, then, I guess this is good-bye,” Bobby said. Angel looked at the doctor and the nurses.

“Can you give me a moment alone?” she asked them. The doctor nodded, and he and the nurses walked away. “This is going to be a long recovery for me. I decided last night that I didn’t want to be here alone.”

“But you said…”

“I know what I said,” she interrupted tensely. “I’m thousands of miles away from my family, from my whole life. I’m going to have to start over when I get back. I can probably walk away from this bullet wound faster than I can walk away from this whole ordeal!” Bobby said nothing. “But I thank you and Agent Fawkes for the job you did in protecting me.”

“Some job,” he muttered.

“No, don’t beat yourself up,” she assured him. She touched his face.

There goes that touch again, he thought. Angel held her hand on his cheek for a moment, and abruptly put it down. She blushed and turned away. Bobby just smiled; this time he didn’t fret about anything else and let himself enjoy her touch. He bent down and softly kissed her. Her eyes widened. She giggled nervously and reddened again.

“Take care of yourself, Angel,” he said.

“I will.” The doctor and the nurses returned. They began to wheel her away.

“Call me when you find your purpose,” he called as they made their way down the hall.

“I promise,” she called back. “Good-bye, Agent Hobbes. God bless you, and Agent Fawkes too.” Bobby smiled. They turned the corner at the end of the hallway, and she was gone. Darien came up behind him.

“What’s going on?” he asked looking into the room. “Where’s Angel?”

“She’s going home,” Bobby replied. “She’s going to be transferred to a Boston hospital so she can be with her family.”

“Oh,” Darien said. “She didn’t say good-bye.”

“No, she did.” Bobby turned and began to walk. Darien joined him. “Do you believe in God, Fawkes?”

“I guess,” Darien answered. “She got you thinking, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bobby admitted. Darien smiled. “Not that I’m gonna go rushin’ to church or anything…”

“Nah, me either,” Darien said. They were quiet as they kept walking.

“You think we should?” Bobby asked uncertainly. Darien shrugged. Bobby sighed. “Well, this case is closed, I suppose.”

“Uh-huh,” Darien answered dryly. “It might do us some good, though.”

“What?”

“Going to church,” Darien said.

“Oh.” They reached the van in the parking lot and climbed in. Neither one said anything, but they were both thinking the same thing. The little time they got to know Angel was enough to shake them. But just a little. For the first time in their lives, Darien and Bobby felt some sense of God. Something bigger than they cared to imagine wanted to show Bobby Hobbes and Darien Fawkes a new light. This Something, or Someone, simply said, “Here I am.” Not pushing them, not grabbing them by the collars and screaming; no, this Someone just whispered, “Here I am. But don’t forget Me.”

I won’t, Darien promised. He looked out the window and glanced up at the sky, hoping Someone was still watching out for him. And for Hobbes.

This web site was created and designed by Lori Swanson, November 2000. BIG thanks to Beth (Loganlover) for creating the "Who is Bobby Hobbes" "Hobbes Dossier" and "Our Little Tiger" pages! Great job! 
All screen captures are the creation of  Lori Swanson. Please ASK before borrowing any pictures. Thanks.
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