Invisible Touch continued from part 1 The sudden meeting of Hobbes and floor stunned him enough to miss the fact that someone was actually unlocking his door instead of breaking it down. The first thing he remembered after the sudden impact was Fawkes' icy hands reaching down to spread his asscheeks -- he yelped and tried to scramble away, and the front door swung wide open, revealing Eberts and the Keeper. _Son of a bitch,_ he thought, seeing the looks of shock on their faces as one minute he was desperately retreating from some unseen assailant; the next he was covered in a shower of Quicksilver particles, and Gland-Boy stood there defiantly, his raging erection making his intents all too obvious. Eberts stood in the doorway, his mouth opening and closing silently, looking like some very large fish. The Keeper, on the other hand, stepped forward, brandishing the hypo of counteragent. "Darien," she said softly, "calm down now -- let me give you the shot and everything will be all right..." Inwardly, she winced at her wording, knowing that if they had interrupted what she thought they had, at least one person in the apartment would *not* be all right. She took another step forward, trying to stare Fawkes down and not be unnerved by his dark eyes surrounded by bloody red. "Darien..." Fawkes' eyes narrowed, and a shift in his stance telegraphed his next action -- Eberts realized what he was seeing, but was too far away to do anything; instead, as Fawkes leapt at the Keeper it was Hobbes who reacted. Throwing himself in the path of his raging partner, Hobbes caught him around the thighs and dragged him down to the ground on top of himself in a struggling tangle of limbs. "Now!" he grunted towards the Keeper and Eberts, "Give him the goddamn shot *now*!" Even as Eberts nervously grabbed one of Fawkes' arms and held it as still as possible for the Keeper to jab the needle into a vein, Fawkes' turned his attention to his partner again, shifting so that his aching erection slid against Hobbes' mouth. "You shouldn't have stopped me, Bobby," Fawkes snarled, "You could've had what you want..." And then the needle slid in and the blue liquid mingled with Fawkes' Quicksilver-laden blood, counteracting the effects on his mind and gradually bringing him back to himself. Eberts and the Keeper backed away a step as he ceased struggling against Hobbes, not fighting at all when his partner pushed him aside and scrambled out from under him. Surprising everyone, Eberts slid off his jacket and held it out to Hobbes, who stood in his living room wearing only his t-shirt. Surprising them even more, Hobbes draped the jacket over his naked partner instead of covering himself. Eberts opened his mouth to protest and Hobbes glared at him, silencing him instantly. Then he looked up at the Keeper for a moment, ducking his gaze when he realized she was studying him intently. "Okay, you gave him the shot -- you two can go now. We'll be in in the morning and you can give him whatever tests you're planning to then. I got it all under control," he said, proud of himself when his voice remained steady. "I don't think that's a good idea," the Keeper said, trying to sound calm and unable to completely hide the strain in her accented voice. "Darien," she continued, "are you all right?" Even as she asked that she continued looking at Hobbes, expecting him to protest; to point out that he had been the one attacked. The fact that he remained silent concerned her, as did the fact that despite his obvious embarrassment at standing there half-naked, he wouldn't leave his partner alone with the two of them. She finally looked away from Hobbes and knelt beside Fawkes, although out of the corner of her eye she saw Hobbes retrieve Fawkes' jacket from the couch and wrap it around his waist. "Darien?" He sat up slowly, wrapping Eberts' jacket around himself shakily and glancing over at Hobbes before ducking his gaze and studying the floor. "I -- ah-- I'm sorry... I started having the headaches and ran over here, thinking Bobby could drive me to the lab; never thought to call ahead until it was too late, never thought about the fact that it was two in the morning and you wouldn't be there..." She frowned, spotting the bandage on his knee for the first time. "What happened to your knee?" she asked, kneeling beside him and gently probing around the bandage where the swelling was now obvious. "Hobbes?" She looked up at Hobbes, who had retrieved Fawkes' jeans from the floor and held out the torn and bloodied knee to her. "He fell on the way here," Hobbes explained, still sounding as steady as could be, "I cleaned it up and bandaged him, and was gonna get him some ice when he lost it -- was right after I called you..." "And I told you to tie him up," she reminded him, regretting the words the instant they left her lips. His expression turned hard, his eyes glittering like diamonds as he finally met her gaze and answered her, "And I told you I wouldn't *do* that. He's my *partner*..." "Next time, listen to her, Hobbes," Fawkes said. The Keeper frowned slightly, noticing the change: Hobbes, this time, when a moment ago Fawkes had called him Bobby. The look of pain she saw flash across Hobbes' face surprised her, but not as much as his response. "You and Eberts need to leave now. I'll drive him home, and we'll be in tomorrow. Just go." He handed Fawkes his jeans and took Eberts' jacket back, then handed it to the agent, swallowing hard before he finally managed to mouth a thank-you. Then he glanced at his door and frowned. "And tomorrow you can tell me why you've got keys to my place, too." Eberts looked at the Keeper, then shrugged and nodded. He headed for the door as she said, "I want to make sure you're--" "I'm *fine*," Hobbes said, "and I'll make sure he's all right, too. Darien," he said, turning back to his partner, "you want to go with her? Or you gonna stay and talk with me for a minute or two?" "I should go," Fawkes answered, much more subdued than he usually sounded after a shot of the counteragent. Because he was looking down, he missed what the Keeper didn't -- an expression of pain and loss flitted across Hobbes' face, quickly covered up but not fast enough for her to think she had imagined it. _What is going on here?_ she thought, certain she was putting the pieces together incorrectly. She couldn't possibly have read Hobbes so wrong, *especially* knowing what she had seen in his file. It was just impossible! And then he shut down, all gentleness and caring gone from his expression. "Fine. You wanna go, you take your jeans and your jacket and just get out. Keeper, you make sure he goes easy on that knee," he ordered, tossing the jacket almost carelessly at Fawkes. He headed for his bedroom, ignoring them until he had retrieved his shorts and pulled them back on. "You got the keys, you can lock up," he said over his shoulder, noticing that Fawkes was pulling his jeans back on without his briefs. _Damn..._ he thought, unwilling to go back in case he lost his resolve. He let it go, continuing on into his bedroom as he heard an angrily whispered discussion -- he couldn't tell what was going on, beyond the fact that the Keeper was chewing Fawkes out for something... Then the living room light turned off and the front door shut and locked, and footsteps retreated down the steps. Alone, he climbed back into bed and moved one of the pillows into the middle for his head, hugging the other one tightly to his chest. Pulling the blanket up, he curled tightly around the pillow and lost the battle against the tears... _Goddamned idiot! Never, never, *never* fall for your partner!_ he chided himself, trying briefly to get a handle on the sobs that were wracking him now. _Losing Viv nearly killed you, now you've gone and fallen for someone else you can never have! Stupid stupid stupid!_ He buried his face in the pillow and cried hard, all of the fear and the memories flooding back now that his defenses were down. Darien would never have wanted him after he learned about that, anyway... He was sure the Keeper knew -- she had to have access to their medical files -- and now she would be telling Fawkes all about it. It made him angry that she'd do something like that to the kid after what had nearly happened -- he didn't need to be feeling guilty about *that*, too... Most likely, he'd have to be looking for a reassignment in the morning, because Fawkes wouldn't want anything to do with a fuck-up like him. The Marines had been right: he was a faggot, a limp-wristed cocksucker-- A quiet creak of the floor interrupted his self-loathing, reminding him that he had left his pistol out in the living room by the door. They had obviously forgotten to lock all of the locks, and someone had gotten in! For a moment, he contemplated lying still in bed and letting them get him, but his self-preservation instinct overruled his depression and he jumped up into a defensive crouch on the bed. There was no one there, but he knew the feel of his room too well -- someone... "Aw crap," he whispered as Fawkes shimmered into view, scattering tiny shards of Quicksilver all over his carpet. "Bobby..." Fawkes said, his voice thick with emotion. "Shit -- she was right..." he whispered, the dim light from outside reflecting off the tears on Hobbes' face. He reached out and gently brushed a tear aside with his thumb, his touch lingering on Hobbes' cheek much longer than it needed to. "Yeah, she was," Hobbes said, "But don't worry, you don't need to be stuck with me -- they can assign you someone new tomorrow..." Relaxing, he sank back down to sit in his bed, grabbing the pillow and hugging it close again. "So now that you see it's true, why don't you get outta here?" "What?" Fawkes asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking confused, "I -- I'm sorry. I didn't realize you'd still want me to go... I really fucked this up, didn't I?" Hobbes looked down and murmured, "I *don't* want you to go -- just figured you wouldn't want anything to do with me once you knew the truth..." "Bobby, you're not making sense," Fawkes protested, "She told me it looked like I'd just broken your heart -- I thought-- I'll go, you're right." He started to stand, and Hobbes grabbed his wrist, realizing suddenly that they were talking about two entirely different things. "Wait -- don't go -- please..." "Then it is true..." Fawkes studied what he could see of Hobbes' face, wondering what expression the dim lighting was hiding from him. He hadn't wanted to destroy their friendship, but his actions while in the grip of the madness were unforgiveable. And yet, Hobbes seemed willing to forgive all of it, even the attempted rape... "Darien..." Hobbes breathed, his voice shaky with emotion and the fading sobs, "Damn it, we're *not* supposed to fall for our partners... Means we can be too easily compromised..." "'Fall for'?" Fawkes whispered, his expression softening, sending a pang through Hobbes as he saw the beauty of it in the dim light. "Oh man, Bobby, you're not just talking friends, are you! When she said I broke your heart, she really, really meant it..." He reached out to gently smooth away more tears, ignoring the ones welling in his own eyes and threatening to spill down his face; then with a hand on either side of Hobbes' head, drew closer for a gentle kiss. "Please don't do this to me if you don't mean it..." Hobbes whispered against his lips, squeezing his eyes shut hard before more tears came. "I can't take that again..." Fawkes drew back to search what he could see of his partner's expression, then asked, "What were you talking about, anyway? You didn't think I'd want to work with you when I found out you were bi?" He smiled slightly and said, "It really wasn't just the Gland talking when I said I had seen you checking me out, you know..." "And it doesn't bother you?" Hobbes pressed, watching him carefully. "Hell, no, Bobby!" he answered, "Although I'm kind of amazed you want someone like me -- there were times in prison..." Hobbes frowned. "I thought you were in solitary until your brother picked you up... Are you telling me those sons of bitches--" "Easy there, Partner," Fawkes soothed, "That wasn't my only time inside -- it *was* my third strike, you know..." Suddenly Hobbes chuckled, and Fawkes stared at him, shocked and slightly concerned. "Bobby?" "I thought you wouldn't want someone like *me*, and here you've been worrying about the same thing?" Fawkes frowned and quietly asked, "What happened to you that would make you think I wouldn't want you, Bobby?" He realized he was about to learn a great Hobbesian secret, and didn't want to do anything to scare his partner back into his shell. Hobbes swallowed hard, his voice dropping to a nearly silent whisper. It was as if he were afraid to say the words aloud, as if doing so would make the experience too real. Fawkes pulled the blanket up to wrap around both of them and listened as Hobbes spoke, "It was in Iraq -- I was part of a mixed Special Forces team -- three Marines, two Air Force. We were supposed to just get in, get intel, damage as much as we could and get our asses out of there, except things went bad -- real bad. One of the Marines died, one of the Air Force guys and another Marine escaped with the intel, and the last two of us were captured..." He shivered and Fawkes could tell he was looking inside at the memories -- they were very obviously *not* pretty... "They tried everything they could think of to break us -- nothing worked. It was hell -- dunno which was worse, hearing the screams and not knowing what the fuck they were doing to him, or hearing the silence and not knowing how long it was going to be before it was my turn... We saw each other maybe five times during the four months we were rotting there... I dunno about him, but they thought it would be funny to get me hooked on heroin..." He took a long, shuddering breath and continued, "When it started getting obvious that they couldn't get any information out of us, they got bored..." He trailed off, and Fawkes whispered, "They raped you..." "Yeah, if you can call it rape..." Again he trailed into silence. "You responded, and you blamed yourself," Fawkes supplied, "Thought that there was something wrong with you, that it made you a faggot, a fairy; all of those really, really nasty hurtful names the bullies called the weaker kids in school..." Hobbes looked up to meet his gaze, seeing the pain reflected there even in the dim light -- the pain, and the understanding... "Yeah. And I hated myself for not being able to stop it... It was my duty to try to escape, to not do anything in exchange for preferential treatment..." "Preferential treatment?! Shit, Bobby, do you think they would have stopped one way or the other?" Fawkes asked, startling him with his outburst. He swallowed hard and looked up at Fawkes, blinking for a moment, then answered, "No -- I...No, they would have kept on doing it even if I hadn't responded..." "You didn't do anything wrong, Bobby -- believe me, you didn't..." _I want to believe you, Darien, really..._ "When the rescuers arrived, I was a mess -- I think the Air Force guy was, too. We were both pretty fucked up... They -- they made sure to let the Marines know what had happened. There were tapes..." "Oh shit. Bobby..." Fawkes knew where it was heading, suddenly. The Marines -- he remembered hearing recently that some Marines had murdered one of their own because the guy was gay... Between what had been done to him, his ordeal becoming common knowledge, and the drugs his captors had hooked him on, the experience must have been part of what pushed Hobbes into his less than stable mental state... "Damn..." "Yeah, all of those really, really nasty hurtful names...And I was out on my ass in no time flat. Must have been my status as an ex-POW that made them wait until I was through the withdrawal before they cut me loose -- otherwise, I'd have been out on the street the next day, probably..." "Did they at least do it the--" Hobbes cut him off, knowing what he was asking, "Cold turkey. You kidding? I was a *Marine* -- we didn't *do* drug rehab..." "That's why Jones' comment about the pills pissed you off so much..." _I don't care what everyone else thinks,_ Hobbes thought, looking at Fawkes, _He may be a little lazy, but he is NOT stupid by a long stretch..._ "Yeah, that's why it pissed me off so much. What I was taking then was *prescription* -- like the Zoloft now. I wasn't some pill-popping junkie, but that's what Jones made sure everyone thought. Hate that son of a bitch..." "Bobby, I mean it," Fawkes whispered, reaching up to stroke his face gently. "Mean what?" "You told me not to do this to you if I didn't mean it. Well, I mean it," he repeated, reaching over and gently kissing Hobbes on the cheek. "Aw cut it out, Fawkes," he answered, "The first time some beautiful woman pays you some attention and doesn't seem like she's going to rabbit, you're gonna go off with her..." Fawkes blinked, surprised once again by the insecure streak in his partner. He had seen it for the first time when they were dealing with Viv and her fiance Brock, when he had realized for the first time exactly how much Bobby Hobbes could care for someone. He had to be careful not to do something to hurt his partner the way she had... "C'mon, Bobby, who could I run off with? I can't tell anyone about what I do, I'd be sneaking off on jobs all the time -- where would I find a woman who would understand all of that?" "Looks like the Keeper's softening up a bit," Hobbes commented, "I can tell she likes you..." "As a lab rat, maybe. Come *on*, Bobby, do you really think I could fall in love with someone who thinks of me as her experiment first and a person second?" He shook his head and continued with a slight smile, "But you -- hell, Bobby, much as I hate to admit it, you're already my best friend..." "Your only friend..." Hobbes said with a touch of his usual sarcastic humour. "My *partner*," Fawkes said, leaning against him. "Damn, Bobby, how long *have* you been thinking of me that way?" "A while... I don't really know when it started..." He paused for a long moment, then said, "Yeah, I do. When you got shot trying to protect that kid, Jessica -- when I saw how much you were willing to risk to keep her safe. You took so many stupid risks--" "Gee, thanks..." "Don't cut me off here," Hobbes said, drawing Fawkes into a one-armed embrace, "Like I was saying, you took so many stupid risks, but it was so obvious that you really cared..." "I tried to rape you tonight, Bobby..." "Yeah, and you tried to kill me a few months ago -- it's that damned *thing* they put in your head, Darien. It twists what you feel and what you think -- I told you we've all got a bit of evil; that thing just lets yours out of the cage it's put in..." He hugged Fawkes closer and murmured, "I don't care what you say about it being your Id, I know it's not what you really want to do -- wouldn't upset you so much if it was..." "I can't promise you it's not gonna happen again, Bobby," Fawkes whispered. "I can't control it -- I get an urge to do something, I just do it..." "So," Hobbes said quietly, his tone suddenly sly, "What, exactly, did you get an urge to do this time?" "Well, I would've thought it was pretty obvious -- I wanted to get my rocks off," Fawkes said, suddenly embarrassed as Hobbes' tone sent a shiver through him. "'Course you did, Darien, you're a guy," Hobbes said with a smirk. "Must've been more than that, though..." Again, the suggestive tone sent a shiver through Fawkes, and he realized his cock was hardening once more. Bobby Hobbes was seducing him! "I uh-- I wanted to make you lose control," he whispered, gasping as Hobbes moved over in the bed and reached for his waistband. Trembling fingers unbuttoned and carefully unzipped his jeans, freeing his erection from its uncomfortable prison. As Hobbes pulled the jeans off and threw them onto the floor, he continued, "I wanted to make you cry out and beg..." "And somehow I get the feeling it wasn't beg you to stop, huh?" Hobbes whispered, sliding down in the bed and looking at the throbbing organ. If he didn't do it now, he'd never get up the nerve again... This time, Hobbes was the one in control. He waited for Fawkes to settle himself more comfortably, then leaned in and gently licked the blood-engorged glans. Fawkes gasped, the sound turning into a moan as Hobbes' tongue flicked down the pulsing vein underneath, then teasingly across the slit. He lapped up the precum that glistened there, relishing the helpless gasps and moans of his partner as he did so. Then he pulled back for a moment, looking up and seeing the naked desire written all over Fawkes' expressive face, mingled with a tender emotion he didn't dare accept yet. He smiled, then returned his attention to his partner's cock, this time deep-throating it with little effort. Bobby Hobbes didn't suck cock -- yeah, right. But he *wanted* to suck this cock... Fawkes stared as his cock disappeared into Hobbes' mouth, enveloped again by that liquid heat. Part of him knew that Hobbes was doing this *for* him, and he knew he didn't really deserve it -- but there was no way he could stop it now, it was just too good... He groaned as Hobbes increased the suction, feeling his body responding so eagerly after the aborted effort earlier. It was going to happen so soon -- be over so fast... "Oh! God! Bobby, I'm gonna--" Hobbes smiled around the pulsing flesh and slid his hands beneath Fawkes' buttocks to knead his asscheeks, feeling the impending explosion building as Fawkes tried to keep still. He intensified his efforts, wanting his partner to be the helpless one. He didn't want Fawkes to remain still, he wanted to see his glorious body arching and writhing in pleasure; wanted to hear that sexy voice moaning. And then he heard Fawkes' breath catch and felt the gathering of his muscles, and he sucked for all he was worth. Fawkes lost the fight to stay still, arching up into him and thrusting with every spasm as Hobbes greedily swallowed the hot spurts of cum; sucking and licking until the last tremors had faded and Fawkes lay panting in the bed, staring at him in amazement. "Damn, Bobby..." he breathed when Hobbes climbed back up in the bed and lay down beside him. "So, you like that, huh?" Hobbes asked with a smirk. "Two can play at that control thing, you know..." Fawkes smiled sleepily and drew Hobbes into an embrace, then slid a hand down into his shorts, dismayed to find his cock soft -- until he encountered the evidence of his partner's own orgasm. "Oh my god -- I did that to you? Bobby, I didn't even touch--" "You are the sexiest guy I know, Darien -- the sight of you writhing around on my bed and knowing I did that to you was all I needed. Although next time..." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, which Fawkes realized he could see better in the light of false dawn. "Next time you get a *lot* more," Fawkes promised, pulling him close. "But we gotta sleep -- it's almost morning, and we have to stop at my place before we report in..." "Sleep -- that'd be a good idea. I don't think they'd mind if we're a little late. As long as they don't get worried and come over here to check on us -- how the fuck did Eberts get copies of my keys, anyway," Hobbes murmured, feeling himself slipping into sleep as Fawkes held him close. "We'll change the locks," Fawkes murmured in answer, snuggling into his partner's -- _my lover's_, he amended mentally -- arms and drifting off. Just before he really went under, he heard a quiet murmur against his chest -- he was almost certain Hobbes had said, "I love you..." --==**==-- Okay, so goin' soft isn't always the crime we pretend it is. It's hard to let my guard down, and I'm praying that I don't get burned this time. Someone once said, "Better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all." Well, I've loved, and I've lost once already, and the jury's still out on whether it's really better. But, I know I can't let this chance slip past me -- when he leaves me, it's gonna hurt so bad I probably won't survive it -- but not allowing myself to feel this, I'd be as good as dead anyway. I let him in... The End (for now) The Invisible Man is (c) 2000 by the SciFi Channel, Stu Segall Productions, and USA Cable Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to infringe on these copyrights. I don't own the characters, I'm just playing with them for a little while, and promise to give them back in -- well, almost perfect condition when I'm done. Okay, maybe a little rumpled... Any physical resemblance of the Nameless Air Force Guy to Richard Dean Anderson is -- well, not very coincidental at all, really.