Chapter Text
"But, Professor.... he isn't a mutant. Not technically, anyway."
"I realize that, Jean. That doesn't mean he won't be of use to us in this situation."
"Maybe, but I agree with the lady. We don't know a hell of a lot about this guy, Charles. What you *have* told us makes me wonder what you're thinking. With his background, I wouldn't let him look in the fridge, never mind give him access to the labs an' the computers...."
"It's his background that makes him exactly what we require, Logan. Noone else here at the institute can do what he can. Mutant or not, we need him. This mission will very likely fail without his help."
"I guess.... If you say so, I'll back you up, but I'm not lettin' him outta my sight for a second."
"This man isn't coming here to harm us. I insist he be treated with the respect and trust you'd show to any other guest. I should think you'd even feel a bit of sympathy, Logan. You and he have quite a bit in common."
"Yeah, you were just getting to that." Logan remarked, effectively closing the door on the security issue. His good friend took the cue and turned his wheelchair to face the wall. Tapping on a wireless keyboard, he lowered the lights and activated a display screen. Within a few seconds a picture of a young man appeared on the screen. In the back of the room Jean Grey giggled softly.
"What? I don't see anything funny."
"I can see one thing you have in common right off the bat...."
"And that is?"
"The same hair stylist."
Logan growled under his breath and counted to ten, forcing himself not to throw her through the door without opening it first.
"Get on with it, Charles."
"Gladly. This is Darien Fawkes...."
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TWO DAYS LATER:
In response to the incessant buzzing of the telephone beside his bed, Darien Fawkes grunted and pulled the sheet off his face, revealing his dark, disheveled hair and a clearly irritated expression. Grudgingly, he opened his eyes halfway and fumbled for the receiver.
"Yeah. What?"
"Darien? You sound ill. Are you alright?"
"I'm half asleep, Eberts. It's my day off, damn it. Whadda you want?"
"I'm afraid your free time has been preempted. You need to meet the Official in his office as soon as you can. Top priority."
"Damn. Okay, okay. I'll call Bobby..."
"No. Agent Hobbes is to know nothing about this. This is for your ears only."
"He's my partner. Anything I'm in the middle of, he deserves to..."
"Not this time. I understand your loyalty to Robert, but he can't be involved. Just get dressed and come to the Agency. We'll be waiting for you." Eberts told him brusquely, disconnecting the call.
Slowly, Darien pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it as if he might get more information that way. After a moment, he dropped the receiver back in the cradle, stood and headed into the bathroom to wash and shave.
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TBC.....