Title: Head Games
Author/pseudonym: Lokemele
Fandom: The Invisible Man/Katherine Kurtz's Deryni novels
Paring: OMC/Bobby Hobbes/Darien Fawkes
Rating: NC-17
Status: WIP; will post a chapter a day if possible.
Archive: Yes, please
E-mail address for feedback:: lokemele@cchono.com
Series/Sequel: Probably not, but you never know.
Other websites: None
Disclaimers: All Invisible Man characters are copyright Stu Segall Productions. The Deryni universe is the creation of Katherine Kurtz. No profit is being made, and no infringement of copyright is intended. Original characters are mine; please don't use them without my permission.
Notes: Ineffective Daily Affirmations Challenge
Summary: If you thought Bobby Hobbes was screwed up before, wait until you see what a demented Deryni can do to him!
Warnings: Slash (as if you didn't know); RAPE (both mental and physical); Violence; Adult language; Possible spoilers for nearly every episode. Additional warnings may be posted for individual parts!!
HEAD GAMES
By Loke
I have the power to channel my imagination into ever-soaring levels of suspicion and paranoia.
So of course they gave me a partner who can render himself invisible at will.
You'd think they were DoD instead of Fish and Game; I thought only the military could screw up that badly. SNAFU started as a military acronym, in case you've ever wondered about it.
Standing next to him when he's visible isn't much of an improvement; he's tall, slender, well-muscled, handsome and younger than me. I'm short, chunky, and balding; we look like a joke standing together, and I'm the punch line. It doesn't help he thinks I'm a nut case and our bosses, along with my former ones and my ex-wife, agree with him. Some days I wonder who's supposed to be watching who.
Right now I'm wondering why we're out in the woods playing Mulder and Scully, investigating reports of strange lights and dead, insane or missing people. Why do I feel like I'm in the sequel to The Blair Witch Project?
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He watched the two men from one of his hiding places in the woods. He also read their minds and emotions, and chose his next toy from what he read.
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"How long are we gonna look for something we're not gonna find?" Darien Fawkes asked his partner.
"Until we either find it or someone tells us to stop," Robert 'Bobby' Hobbes answered. "What's your problem? Allergic to nature or something?"
"It's not that," the younger man responded, "it's just -- do you get the feeling we're being watched?"
Hobbes shot him an 'I can't believe you asked me that' look. "No more than usual. Look, we can cover more ground if we split up. Think you can manage not to get lost?" The agency had provided miniaturized walkie-talkies to the two agents so they could stay in touch with each other. "You see or hear anything you don't like, just go see-through and call me."
"And what if you run into it?" Fawkes asked.
"I'll take care of it," Hobbes answered.
The pair split up, Hobbes going off to his right and Fawkes heading to his left. In a few minutes they'd lost sight of each other in the dense undergrowth of the woods.
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Lucan Malemont had been confused at first by the world he'd arrived in after casting the spell he'd found in that mildewing, half-rotted scroll he'd found in those old ruins. It wasn't as if he'd had much of a choice; even his noble Torenthi blood wouldn't save him from the headman's sword now that his distant kinsman and king was dead. He had sensed the presence of the nobles who'd sworn to avenge the deaths and insanity he'd caused to their people even as the Gate to elsewhere was opening, and he'd quickly darted through it, letting it close behind him.
He was both shocked and pleased to learn the locals had no knowledge of Deryni. He wondered briefly what had happened to the last person or group to use the spell before picking up where he left off, secure in the knowledge none had the power to stop him. He might go as long as a week between killing or releasing one toy and picking the next, but he'd noticed lately there were fewer people in the area. Still, several of his toys had known the land he'd arrived in was very large, peaceful, and had borders between the areas known as "states" which were little more than property lines, easily crossed.
There were also several large cities near the woods he hunted; he'd gained enough knowledge from his toys to survive and hide in one or another. The most impoverished areas would provide both good hiding spots and excellent hunting. He'd even heard there were people living on the streets who probably wouldn't be missed.
He wondered how much he'd learn from his next toy.
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Hobbes moved through the woods as quietly as he could, checking behind him and checking in with Fawkes often. He turned suddenly, hearing a noise behind him and to his right, and never saw the hand which reached from his left to send him to oblivion.
PART 2
"Hobbes?"
Fawkes had noticed his partner hadn't checked on him about 10 minutes ago. Now he was trying to backtrack to where they'd parted hoping to pick up his trail. Hobbes might be a pain in the ass at times, but he was also a pretty good partner.
"Bobby, c'mon, where are you man?"
What would the Agency do if he came back alone? How hard would they look for an agent they needed but didn't quite trust? He really didn't want to break in a new partner. Bobby wasn't much to look at and he could get on a guy's nerves in a heartbeat, but sometimes he seemed so -- vulnerable. Mention that word and his name in the same sentence and you'd get a long lecture about his stint in the Marines, his training at Quantico, and his record as a survivor.
He also tended to be overprotective; just ask his ex-wife. Of course, he might be protecting the gland instead of his partner; it was, after all, a multi-million dollar investment and they'd already harvested it from a corpse once. His orders probably included making sure Fawkes' head was safe, even if the rest of his body wasn't. Darien had a sudden picture in his mind of Hobbes carrying his bloody, decapitated head into the Keeper's lab and reporting he couldn't save his partner but he did manage to bring back the good part.
He just hoped he had the opportunity to tell him about it, and a few other things.
He searched for over an hour before he called in to the Official and told him he'd lost his partner.
"We'll send out some people to help you look," was the response.
Why did he have the horrible feeling it was already too late?
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Hobbes blinked awake to discover himself face up on the ground and wondered why he didn't have a headache. He tried to move an arm and discovered something that would have been interesting if it weren't so scary: he could feel his arm and wiggle his fingers slightly, but he couldn't move it. A check of his other limbs revealed they were mostly immobile as well, though he'd lost no feeling in any of them. Had he fallen down an embankment and injured his spine? A high spinal injury could cause him to stop breathing. He appeared to be in some sort of small hollow thickly covered by brush.
"Ah, you're awake I see," a deep, accented voice spoke from behind him. He tried to place the accent and failed; Eastern European was as close as he could get.
"How badly am I hurt?" he asked. Might as well get the bad news out of the way first.
"You're not injured," the voice told him, "I'm forbidding you from moving with my mind," he said as he moved closer and Hobbes got his first look at the man.
His bearing and movement suggested military training from an early age, and his features were cold, haughty, and aristocratic. Light olive skin, dark intense eyes, an incongruously turned-up nose, and a thin mouth were set beneath bangs cut from shoulder-length wavy black hair. He stood perhaps 5' 9" or 10", and had a slender, well-muscled build starting to got to fat. Hobbs guessed his age between 35 and 40. He was dressed in faded jeans, a flannel shirt and workboots which matched the descriptions of clothing worn by one of the missing men.
"I can tell you don't believe me," he continued as he knelt down to run fingers into Hobbes' hair, his thumb sliding down the side of his face. He smiled as his toy tried to turn away. "I nearly took your friend instead, but I decided you'd be more fun." He wasn't going to mention he'd read about the effects of the gland in the both men's mind and felt he couldn't control a raging madman.
He played with the man's hair a little while longer, to let him get a good idea of how helpless he was. He didn't want to go too fast; this was a fighter, a soldier and a spy, and he wanted to enjoy shattering his mind and using his body. He found himself hardening as the expression on his toy's face changed from confusion to anger and fear. "You're beginning to understand now, aren't you?" he asked. "You're starting to believe I really can control your body. Now we can start playing games and having fun," he whispered into Bobby's ear.
His mind stabbed into his toys', and Bobby Hobbes screamed without making a sound.
PART 3
He'd never experienced such pain, or a violation his mind could still scarcely comprehend. He was clinging to a few remaining scraps of sanity with mental fingernails. It didn't help being aware of his attacker's emotions and, to an extent, his thoughts, and knowing he was aware of all of yours. He couldn't keep the tears from sliding down his cheeks (a further humiliation), or stop the silent sobs racking his body.
"What is it, my pet?" Lucan asked with false solicitude. Bobby heard the voice in both ears and mind. "There's no need for these tears when you can share the pleasure I feel being with you. Or if you prefer," a touch to his mind shifted his perceptions, and it was Darien's voice he heard, "you can be with your 'partner', either being taken," another shift, "or taking him yourself," and he could feel Darien beneath him, even though he knew what he was actually feeling was himself in Lucan's embrace. "What will it be, my sweet?" he asked, letting the illusion fade.
He didn't answer, knowing it didn't matter what he said. He'd tried to resist at first, to no avail. Lucan had torn through his mind as if it were so many layers of tissue, tearing away layers of memory, exposing his innermost self, and peering at his most private and precious of dreams, twisting them into weapons to hurt him. He'd quickly learned his body was no longer under his control, as it obeyed Lucan's suggestion to undress despite his objections. He was still screaming at it to stop as it positioned itself for its own rape, his weight resting on spread knees and shoulders as his hands reached back to part his ass cheeks, exposing himself fully to his rapist.
It wasn't even that painful physically, despite the lack of preparation or lube, as his muscles relaxed at Lucan's command and admitted his cock. He was shocked to discover he felt not only his own sensations but also Lucan's, as well as what the other man was feeling emotionally. He tried to block out the pleasure his rapist was feeling on all levels, physically, mentally, and emotionally, but Lucan drove it into his mind as he drove his penis into his body. All he could do was hold on and bear it, praying it wouldn't get worse.
His prayers were in vain, as he quickly discovered. When he relaxed and stopped fighting his rapist, Lucan changed his tactics from physical assault to its psychic equivalent. Part of his mind knew what he was experiencing was not reality, but the sensations and emotions being driven into his mind were too strong to ignore. Bobby knew the body he was making love to was his own and the body thrusting into it was Lucan's, but he couldn't ignore the pleasure he was experiencing, either from Lucan or his own fantasies.
He twisted Bobby's mind and painted illusions of his ex-wife and of his partner. Usually it was Darien who writhed and moaned beneath him as he thrust his way to completion, though occasionally it was someone else and sometimes his partner was taking him. It got more and more bizarre as his grip on reality slipped away; Claire was OK and even Eberts wasn't too bad, but getting screwed by your boss like that was definitely way, way down towards the bottom of his list of things to do in his life.
It took a week for Lucan to grow bored with his latest toy; even he had to admit Bobby had lasted longer than any of the others. It was probably that fact which caused him to release the agent after allowing him to reclothe himself and blurring his memories of his captor's appearance. He planted a few interesting suggestions, which he knew would be obeyed without pause, into Bobby's mind, and retained a light link to keep track of him, allowing him to know it was there.
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Bobby Hobbes stumbled through the woods not certain which would be worse: being found or not being found. Being found by anyone male would trigger a response he couldn't control which would almost certainly cost him his career if not his life. Not being found meant he might die of exposure, or worse, that his "escape" was one more illusion, another game played by the monster who held him captive.
He could still hear the fiend's words echoing through his brain: "You're to offer yourself sexually to any man you see, especially Darien Fawkes . . . any man you see . . . any man you see . . . "
As he stumbled once more and fell heavily, a sharp stone cut his palm. He looked at his bloody hand and at the stone, and an idea crossed his mind. Hoping this wasn't an illusion, he picked up the stone and made his idea a reality.
PART 4
Darien was listening to his new partner's latest lecture on why going back to the woods looking for his former partner was Not a Good Idea.
"We've been over every square inch of this place all week," he was saying. "Fawkes, you need to let him go. He's not coming back."
"I want to at least find --" Darien began, but stopped himself short. Would finding Bobby's body give him any sort of comfort? He didn't know, but he had to keep looking.
"Let it go, Fawkes," his partner advised. He'd tried to establish at least a working relationship, but had been rebuffed. He tried a new tack. "He wouldn't want you to do this."
"He'd do it for me," Darien said, his mouth quirking up in a half-grin, "even if he had to bring a straight jacket."
Whatever would have been said next was forever lost as the sound of a body crashing through brush reached their ears. Darien was moving almost before he knew where to go. "Bobby?" he called as he moved toward the thicket where the noise originated. "Hobbes?" A last crash of brush and Darien got a look at his missing partner.
"Oh, God, Bobby -- Bobby -- it's OK, man, I've got you," he said, pulling the man into his arms and holding him tightly as he heard his soon-to-be former partner calling for a pick-up.
"Darien?" he said, then started to sob. Was it Darien, or an illusion? Was he safe, or was this the next game? There was no way to tell, and he shuddered as his mind began to withdraw, unable to distinguish reality from illusion. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know," he sobbed.
"Hang in there, Bobby," his partner crooned, stroking his hair, "we'll have transport real soon and then we'll be back at the lab and Claire'll fix you up and we'll be back to chasing the bad guys in no time." Darien knew he was babbling to reassure himself as much as the man in his arms, but he couldn't stop and didn't want to stop.
He felt the grip on his back release and checked Bobby's pulse; weak and fast, but reassuringly there. He held onto his partner until the Agency vehicle arrived, barely noticing the sticky dampness which made a large stain across the front of his jeans or the matching one on his shirt. Claire had come personally, but she nearly had to pry her patient from Darien's arms to treat him.
He held on to Bobby's hand all the way back to the lab, not caring what
anyone thought about it. He continued talking to him, though he didn't get
any response and wasn't sure if he was awake or not; it was difficult to tell because of the wounds on his face.
"God, Claire," he said, turning tear filled eyes from the ruin of Bobby's face, "why did he have to do that, on top of everything else?"
"I don't know, Darien," she replied, "he didn't do anything like this to any of his other victims." She neglected to mention the wounds appeared to be self-inflicted. She couldn't think of any reason why he'd want to do that to himself.
Claire absolutely forbade Darien from staying while they tended Bobby's wounds once the arrived at the lab, leaving him in the hallway outside. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find his other partner.
"The Official wants to see you," he said, "right now."
He followed the man to the Official's office, ignoring the stares he garnered as he went. "You'd think these people had never seen a guy covered with his partner's blood before," he remarked. He entered and stood, saying, "They're treating him now, but you know they're not going to tell me anything until they absolutely have to."
The Official nodded and smiled at Fawkes. "Good work on locating Hobbes. However, we need you and your partner to go to St. Louis on a case." He handed a file to Darien's temporary partner.
"Bobby Hobbes is my partner," Darien replied, "and he needs me here. What about that bastard in the woods? Who's going after him? I'm not going anywhere while Bobby might need me."
"You're needed in St. Louis," the Official told him. "Hobbes will get the best possible care, and his attacker will be caught and punished."
"Apparently you're getting a little hard of hearing," he shot back, "so let me say this slowly, so you don't miss it. I'm. Not. Going. Anywhere. Except back downstairs to check on my partner." He turned and left without a backward glance.
"I'm sorry," the other man told the Official. "I've been trying to get him to work with me, but he tolerates me at best."
"Not your fault," the Official said.
"Let me go ahead to St Louis; maybe I can manage without him," he offered.
After he left, the Official turned to Eberts. "Fawkes needs to learn who's the boss around here. Tell Claire to withhold the counteragent until he agrees to cooperate."
PART 5
Medical Report
Patient: Hobbes, Robert
Condition: Stable
Patient was discovered in a wooded area after being missing 1 week. He was conscious but disoriented when found, and required sedation prior to treatment. Examination revealed numerous injuries including external and internal tears to anal tissues, contusions, lacerations, bite marks from human teeth (some of which broke the skin) and other evidence of multiple rapes. In addition, there are also numerous lacerations to the eyes and upper face, apparently self-inflicted, for reasons unknown at this time. Surgical repairs were made to the area but it is still uncertain if the patient will regain any visual acuity. Scarring should be minimal.
Patient's mental condition is extremely poor. He appears to be both confused and terrified, and I am unable to establish any sort of dialog with him. He spends most of his time in a fetal curl around a pillow, weeping without sound. He doesn't appear to be aware of where he is; I believe he thinks he's still a captive of his abductor, and we're some sort of illusion. I don't know how to get through to him except by repetition and time. Hopefully, he'll take a chance and attempt to communicate soon.
A visit from his partner revealed a few clues to what is going on in his mind. He alternated clinging to and rejecting Darien, trying to seduce him and pushing him away. It's almost as if he wants desperately to believe it's actually Darien but doesn't dare trust what his senses are telling him. What happened during the week he was held captive? What sort of nightmare did he go through? How do I help him get over what he's experienced?
I'm also worried about Darien Fawkes. The stress of trying to help his partner is causing the quicksilver gland to produce greater amounts of the hormone, and in direct disobedience of orders I've given him a shot of counteragent. That was two days ago, and the Ouroboros -- Darien refers to it as "the snake" -- is now half-full despite the fact he hasn't gone invisible once. I'm uncertain if sending him away or keeping him here would be better for them both.
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"I think you should go to St. Louis," Claire told him.
"I can't," Darien said, "Bobby needs me here."
"Bobby will be fine without you for a few days," she replied, "and you need to keep your commitments. I've already disobeyed a direct order from the Official once, but I can't do it again."
He turned guilty, tear filled eyes to her. "He's so scared, Claire. This wouldn't have happened if we'd stayed together. I just want to go find the guy and rip his heart out for what he did." He looked toward the bed holding his sleeping partner. "Let me tell him goodbye and I'll go."
"Don't wake him."
"I won't."
He walked over to the bed and looked down at the man in it. Bobby had relaxed somewhat in sleep, but the lines carved into his features by his ordeal were still present. If Darien had considered him sometimes vulnerable before, he now thought of him as downright fragile. He leaned down and whispered softly to his friend, "I have to go, Bobby, but I'll be back as soon as I can." He pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead above the bandages. "Talk to Claire; she wants to help you."
She stopped him before he reached the door. "Take this," she said, pressing a cell phone into his hand.
"It's not --" He glanced toward the bed.
"It's mine," she said with a gentle smile, "so I won't forget the number."
"Thanks," he said, kissed her cheek, and was gone.
That night Bobby woke from a nightmare with a scream, and Claire was there to hold him. Unlike previous times when she'd tried to comfort him, he allowed her to hold him without flinching away and even spoke to her. "Darien?"
"He's on a case, Bobby," she told him. "He had to go to St. Louis."
"I'm so messed up," he whispered, fighting back sobs. "He -- he -- ogod -- he ripped up my mind, used my own fantasies against me." He had to pause to regain what little composure he had. "One minute I'd be lying in the woods and the next I'd be here, or my place, or Darien's, and I'd be -- I was --" He was losing the fight not to break down into uncontrollable sobs, "having sex, usually with Darien above or below me, but sometimes -- sometimes, it was someone else." Another pause. "Once -- once -- it was -- was you. I'm so sorry; I wouldn't -- I couldn't stop -- knew it wasn't really you -- knew the body I was thrusting into was me -- knew what I felt was him, using me." Pause. "I know that doesn't make sense, but it's the only way I can say it."
"And now you're afraid this is another fantasy?" she asked. He nodded. "How did he get into your mind? Drugs?"
Bobby shook his head. "He's some kind of damn witch; he entered my mind telepathically, and I think he has some other abilities as well. When I first woke up I couldn't move; he said he was forbidding it. From snatches I picked up he's not even from this planet; he used a 'spell' to get here because he was in trouble with the law where he came from. He doesn't even think of himself as human; his name for his people is Deryni." He shuddered; if this was illusion he'd just given himself away.
Claire was stunned. Their psycho was an alien telepath? She wasn't sure she believed it, or wanted to believe it. She needed to reassure Bobby, but she didn't know how. "This isn't a fantasy. You're in the lab, and you're safe. Try to hold on to that: you're safe, and you're in a safe place."
"You don't believe me." Flat voice.
"It's a little difficult to comprehend," she answered, "but I know this: something very traumatic happened to you, and you've said yourself it was affecting your memory. You're going to have to face and deal with whatever happened, but I want you to know you won't have to do it alone."
PART 6
Darien and his partner wrapped up the case in St. Louis in two days and hurried back because Darien was close to QSM; the snake had only one segment left. It went red and he doubled over just as they entered the building, but the Keeper had been warned and she was there with the counteragent. While Darien was carried down to the lab Claire was asked to report to the Official. Darien's partner followed her in.
"I need an update on Hobbes' condition," the Official said, "specifically, how soon we can move him to a permanent facility."
Claire knew "permanent facility" meant the asylum where the Agency buried their "failures", and she was aware Hobbes also knew this. Sending Bobby there would crush him; he'd see it as the Agency writing him off as a liability. He'd lose all hope and any possibilty of saving him would be lost. Darien was feeling guilty enough already at allowing his partner to be injured; how would he feel if Bobby was put away permenently?
"It's too soon," she told him. "We should at least wait until we know whether or not Hobbes can see." There! A perfectly legitimate reason for keeping him in the lab. "He's also starting to open up to me about what he experienced. We might lose what little ground I've gained if we send him elsewhere now."
"Taking care of Hobbes isn't your job," Eberts said. "You're Fawkes' Keeper, and you might want to remember that."
"I'm well aware of that," she shot back, "but what affects Bobby also affects Darien. They've grown very close since you put them together. Darien's not going to take losing his partner permanently at all well; you've already seen evidence of this." She fired her last salvo. "He could stop working for us, in which case we'd lose him as well; either to Quicksilver Madness or death as a result of having the gland removed."
"It won't go that far," the Official remarked. "Fawkes will come around and accept James here," he indicated the man who'd replaced Hobbes, "as his new partner and life will go on. You've simply got to reassure him Hobbes will receive the best of care. We need him in the field working, not down in your lab playing nursemaid. I want Hobbes gone by the end of the week." There was no arguing with that tone of voice, and Claire simply sighed and nodded before returning to the lab.
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Bobby heard them when they brought Darien in and put him in the dentist's chair Claire used for an exam table. Something about his breathing was vaguely familiar -- damn, he was in QSM! "He needs counteragent!" he shouted to the men in the room.
"Already taken care of," one of them told him, "so don't worry about it. He should wake up after a nice little nap." He heard them leave shortly after.
Leaving him alone with Darien.
Alone.
With Darien.
Tempting.
Too tempting.
He'd recovered enough strength for short walks, and he could locate his partner by his breathing. He toddled over to the chair where he slept.
Memory supplied what he couldn't currently see, supplemented by his sense of touch. His hands roamed over Darien's face, finally finding his lips. He pressed his own to them, tasting them and nibbling them gently. One hand slid down his jaw and throat to the top button of his shirt. He popped it open, sliding his hand further down and opening buttons until he encountered metal, leather, and denim. He slid his hand back up the bare skin, ranging sideways to locate and fondle a nipple. The lips beneath his own curved up in a smile, and he heard Darien murmur, "Nice," beginning to respond sleepily.
Horrified and sickened, he pushed himself away. What was he DOING?
He lost his balance and hit the floor hard. He was still scrambling to his knees when he felt Darien's arms come around him. "Easy," he heard his partner say, "take it easy, it's OK, I'm right here and I've got you."
"Don't, Darien, God, please, don't!"
"It's OK."
"It's NOT OK!" he howled. Speaking in a soft, broken voice, he went on, "Do you realize what I was doing to you while you were lying there defenseless? I can't stop myself; I can still hear his voice in my head saying, 'You will offer yourself sexually to any man you see, especially Darien Fawkes'. I can't control my body; it obeys him, still. I need to be locked away before I do something terrible."
Darien hadn't heard that last; he was still figuring out the implications of the phrase "any man you see". Did that mean -- "Oh, God, Bobby, your eyes." He brushed the bandage with shaking fingers.
"Yeah," Bobby admitted, "I did that myself. It seemed like the only thing to do at the time. You can't want what you can't see."
Darien's world shattered as he realized the full horror of what Bobby was saying: even if his sight came back, he couldn't function as his partner as long as he was throwing himself at every guy he saw. He stood suddenly and pulled Bobby to his feet. "I have to go." And track down that son of a bitch who did this to you and kill him.
Bobby must have sensed it, somehow. He wrapped his arms around Darien. "Stay, please. I need you." I need you to stay out of those woods and far away from HIM.
PART 7
The Woods
A patch of air shimmered, glowed, and a door between worlds opened for a second time. A young woman stepped through, sword on hip, bow and quiver of arrows attached to a knapsack on her back, and stood, surveying her surroundings. She was short, standing a hint over 5' even, blonde curls escaping her hip-length braid, blue eyes noting everything from animal trails to the many footprints of men. A figure many had envied and others had lusted after was clad in black homespun and leather and enveloped in a thick, hooded, ankle-length cape. Along with the visible weapons she carried others, for she was Deryni, born with the full abilities of that people and well-trained in their use.
Anyone seeing her would think her a harmless kook who'd escaped from a gathering of the SCA. They would have been very wrong; Alayna de Andelon was quite capable of killing, and had proved it years before. Though only 19, she was a seasoned mercenary and a veteran of several conflicts. Her current mission was to find and either kill or capture (her choice) one Lucan Malemont, late of Torenth and wanted for numerous crimes. His pursuers had lost his trail, but she'd found the scroll and deduced its significance, bringing her here.
Reaching out with a tendril of power lest her quarry discover her presence, she gently touched the minds of the animals near her. Though their memories were vague, she learned Malemont was in the woods and taking victims. The most recent was less than a week before, but had been rescued by friends. Finding him would be a good place to start.
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"Stay, please. I need you."
Five words Darien would've sworn he'd never hear from Bobby Hobbes. Not Mr. Macho-Gung-ho-ex-Marine-Federal-Agent-I-don't-need-anybody-especially-you-and-I'm-supposed-to-watch-you-not-the-other-way-around.
The man who currently had his arms locked around his waist in a deathgrip while a stubbled cheek rubbed against the skin of his chest. "Bobby --
damn --"
He might have given in if the Keeper hadn't chosen that moment to return. She raised an eyebrow at the pair before clearing her throat loudly. Bobby loosened his grip and stepped back. "Sorry," he whispered. He turned and asked, "Which way is the bed? I've gotten turned around." The defeat in his voice nearly broke Darien's heart. He turned the smaller man in the right direction and let him go, watching the slumped shoulders and slow shuffle as he made his way to the bed, crawled in and curled up, pulling the covers up until he could barely be seen.
"I need to talk to you," he said softly to Claire, drawing her as far away from the bed as he could get.
"I need to speak to you as well," she replied, and started off with "The Official wants Bobby gone by the end of the week."
"What do you mean, gone?" Darien asked, his own concerns forgotten for the moment.
"Sent to a permanent facility."
"You mean the asylum," he growled. "That'll kill Bobby. Not that he isn't dying by inches already." He told her what Bobby had said while she was gone. "What is that? Some sort of post-hypnotic suggestion? Can you get rid of it?" He was desperately hoping for a "Yes" so Bobby could come back to being his partner.
He was disappointed to hear "I don't know" from Claire. "He's mentioned some very odd things in the last few days."
"Odd things?"
"I can't be more specific without violating patient confidentiality."
He glanced over at the bed. "I think you'd better either restrain him or have him watched. He's way too mobile for a guy who's already injured himself once. He told me he should be locked away before he does something terrible; he'd probably welcome the Official's decision. Like the good little government agent he is." The last sentence came out cold and bitter.
"Don't lose hope yet," Claire advised. "We still have until the end of the week."
"I suppose so," he agreed. "Listen, I gotta go do something. Keep an eye on Bobby for me," he said as he left.
The door had barely closed before a hiccuped sob came from the bed, and Claire hurried over to see what the problem was. "Bobby?"
"He's gone to the woods," he whispered. "He's gone to the woods, Claire, and he's not coming back. He thinks he's going to find the monster who hurt me not realizing the monster's going to find him first." The last few words came out as a squeak as he broke down into body-racking sobs.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She saw the man get out of his magic wagon (though she could feel nothing "magic" about it) and enter the woods. She followed soundlessly and cautiously, aware what he was trying to do (and considering him either desperate or insane). She sensed the presence of her quarry long before he noticed the man, and heard his taunts as he revealed himself.
"So you think to avenge your friend," Lucan said, stepping out of the woods behind him. (since he spoke English, having learned it from his "toys", she couldn't understand his words but understood his tone of voice well enough) "How noble. Completely futile, of course, since there's no possible way you could ever best me. Didn't he warn you I can read your mind as easily as the pages of a book? I'm already in your mind! You can't even -- what was the phrase? -- go see-through. Try it yourself and see."
PART 8
"Oh, crap."
He tried again to go invisible, to no avail.
Then he tried to run, with the same lack of results.
As he stood there watching Lucan approach, he started getting really, really scared.
She watched from her cover nearby. Lucan was so totally distracted she could easily string her bow and put an arrow into him, but that wasn't her way. She slipped off her knapsack, unbuckled her swordbelt, and with only her Deryni abilities and training approached the pair. Stepping on the path some ten feet behind them, she called out, "That's quite enough."
It was more than enough -- for Darien. Distracted by a challenge delivered in Torenthi, Lucan's hold on him faltered. Darien took full advantage of it, quickly going invisible and moving away from his previous position. He wondered as he did who the pocket-sized babe in black was, and what she was saying. What he should have been noticing was the tattoo on his wrist; it was more than halfway red, due to the extreme scare he'd just had. The adrenaline in his system and his continued invisibility were only making things worse.
"Lucan Malemont, you stand accused of many crimes," she continued in Torenthi. "You have the option of returning voluntary, returning under duress, or dying here."
"I've heard of you," Lucan replied. "A half-breed bastard who doesn't understand her place. Daring to think she can fight like a man and think like a scholar! You need a man between your thighs, girl. Join me! These humans don't know what a Deryni is; we could easily rule the planet."
"I take it that means you don't wish to surrender," she replied coolly. "So be it. I issue formal challenge to the Duel Arcane." She raised her hands and allowed her aura to become visible (an impressive sight to the still-invisible Darien) and cast the first half of the circle:
"By Earth and Water, Fire and Air,
I conjure powers to flee this Ring.
I clear it now. Let all beware.
Through here shall pass no living thing . . . "
A semi-circle of golden light appeared behind and around her, matching her aura. Lucan snarled and cast his half of the spell:
"Inside, all space and Time suspend.
From here may nothing outward flee
Or inward come. The circle ends
When two are one and one is free."
As he finished a line of blue appeared and joined with the gold; both lines flashed and there was a circle of green light enclosing the combatants. The duel commenced.
"As challenged, you may begin." she said.
"If you think I'm going to defer to you simply because custom dictates it, think again," he snapped back, making the opening gestures of his first spell.
Darien watched them, fascinated. He was so engrossed he lost his quicksilver coating and reappeared, not even noticing until James touched his shoulder.
"Any idea what's going on down there?" the agent asked.
"Some kind of contest or battle, I think," Darien replied. "The guy's definitely our kidnapper; he told me as much. Don't know who the woman is; she just stepped out of the brush and started talking to the guy in a language I've never heard before. Then they moved apart and set this up." He gestured to the ring where the pair continued to duel, and his jaw dropped. "What the hell is that?"
"I'm not sure, mind you," the other man said, "but I believe it's a griffin." He gave his partner an apologetic look. "I've never seen one outside a few heraldic devices and medieval bestiaries. Of course, neither has anyone else, to the best of my knowledge."
It turned out James' hobby, and minor in college, was Medieval Studies. As the duel progressed, he made notes and identified those of the things conjured he could to Darien. He also tried to figure out who was winning.
"You know," Darien pointed out, "it might be a good idea to pull most of our people back and get ready to saturate the area with something to incapacitate the winner. Those aren't exactly Tinker Toys they're playing with down there, and we don't how friendly the victor in this contest is going to be. If it's him, we could be in real trouble here."
James requested the pullback, as well as sleepy gas and masks for himself and his partner. A few minutes later an agent showed up with the requested items, handing them over and pulling back to the perimeter. The only two agents in the woods at the moment were Darien and James.
Within the circle, Alayna made her move, casting the most decisive spell she knew. A quarter-sphere of golden light appeared around and behind her, to be echoed by Lucan's own blue quarter-sphere. A line of green fire marked the boundary between them, and the final battle was joined. The line moved back and forth as the contestants dueled, but eventually it could be seen the gold was overcoming the blue and covering more and more of the hemisphere. Lucan screamed as the last of the blue disappeared, and suddenly Alayna stood alone in a clearing that appeared perfectly normal, with no sign of ethereal light.
James quickly ordered the deployment of the gas and donned his mask, Darien following suit. Not understanding the danger until too late, Alayna was quickly overcome and dropped to the ground, unable to concentrate well enough to fight its effects. She was swiftly restrained and taken away. Her knapsack and swordbelt had been found earlier and were also taken back to the lab.
PART 9
Agency Lab
Bobby suddenly stiffened, cried out and gasped. Claire rushed over, asking, "Bobby? What is it?"
"He's gone."
"Who's gone?"
"Lucan, the man who hurt me. He's been in the back of my mind all this time, keeping track of me, but he's not there anymore. I can't feel him or hear his voice. I heard him scream and felt something snap in my mind, like a thread being broken, and then he was gone. Something else is gone, too; I don't have the overwhelming need to throw myself at anyone. I'm free." He paused a moment as if letting it sink in. "Oh, God, I'm free of him."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Darien was annoyed to find James had been given the van, even though it made sense. He considered asking if he'd been given Bobby's apartment as well, but decided he really didn't want to know.
The two men were the last ones to leave the woods, taking turns carrying their prisoner. James was so engrossed with keeping her secure he forgot to notice his partner, or he would have seen the warning signs. His back was turned when Darien doubled over in QSM, and he never looked at his partner's eyes or he would have seen the red. Now he was fighting to breathe as the life was being choked out of him.
Suddenly Darien was gone and he drew in several deep breaths before looking to see what had happened. He saw Darien on the ground and their prisoner kneeling above him, both figures cloaked in golden light. Her eyes were closed in concentration and her fingers were stretched across his face like a web, reminding him of electrodes placed on people undergoing EEG readings. Before he could interfere, she removed her hands and the light faded. Darien sat up -- perfectly calm, his eyes normal if a little confused.
"What happened?" he asked. His eyes suddenly widened, and he checked his tattoo. "It's green," he said, "it's completely green. How did you do that?" He turned toward Alayna, then back to James. "I was in Madness, wasn't I?"
The other man rubbed his neck. "If you weren't, it was an excellent facsimile."
Alayna was attempting to follow the conversation with no success. The words were almost familiar, but the two men were speaking too quickly for her to be sure. She tried Latin, hoping one of them understood it. "I cannot understand what you're saying. Do you understand me?"
"I'll be damned," said James, "Latin. Late 11th or early 12th century, I think." Turning to the young woman, he said, "I understand you. Can you tell me what you just did?"
"There was a poison in his blood," she said, "I removed it."
"What's she saying?" Darien asked, only to have his partner shush him.
"I know that," he told her, "but can you tell me how?"
Her answer was a shrug.
"That's informative," Darien commented.
James shot him a look and continued with the interrogation. He introduced himself and Darien, and learned her name: Alayna. Where was her opponent? Dead, she told him. What happened to the body? Another shrug. What had the two of them been doing? Fighting a duel. Why? He was wanted by several nobles for a number of crimes, including murder. Where was she from, and how did she arrive in the woods? She sighed and refused to answer, both to that and to any other questions.
"My work here is done," she said, standing. "I should gather my things and leave."
"If you mean the knapsack and swordbelt you left in the woods," James said with a sudden bit of inspiration, "we found them and took them away. You'll have to come with us to retrieve them."
She was very annoyed by their presumption, and let him know in no uncertain terms, but agreed to accompany them back to the lab.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bobby was eating, or rather drinking since he hadn't yet been cleared for solid food, dinner when Eberts entered the lab and started asking him questions. How much did he remember of his captivity? What kind of abilities did his captor demonstrate? How easy was it for him to enter Hobbes' mind? Would it be possible to defend against such a thing? Bobby grew more and more uneasy with each question. Had they captured Lucan? Were they bringing him here? He demanded to know why they wanted to know, a note of panic creeping into his voice. Eberts refused to answer, and continued to press him for information, which he refused to give until he knew why they needed to know.
They were still "discussing" it when James, Darien, and Alayna entered the lab.
PART 10
Eberts paled slightly and backed away, recognizing Alayna from the description he'd been given of her. There was a tense silence in the room and Bobby instantly picked up on it.
"What's wrong?" he demanded. "Who's there?"
"I'm here, Bobby," Darien said as he reached him, putting an arm around his shoulders; a friendly embrace, but not intimate. "It's OK; the man who hurt you is dead."
Alayna could feel the fear of the injured man and understood it. "Tell him Lucan is dead," she told James, unaware his partner was already passing along that information.
"Then why's Eberts so nervous all of a sudden?" Bobby asked. "Something's going on, and I want to know what."
Alayna had been quietly and surreptitiously moving away from both Eberts and the door, giving the man an escape route. She suddenly gave a soft cry and darted over to one of the lab benches, where her knapsack and swordbelt sat. Claire noticed and raised an eyebrow at James as Eberts made his escape.
At the same time, Darien was speaking softly to Bobby, explaining what he understood of what had happened in the woods. "Apparently this guy Lucan was wanted for some other stuff somewhere else, and somebody came after him. There was a duel I can't describe and you wouldn't believe anyway, which was won by a young lady named Alayna, whom we brought back with us."
"There's another one like him, and she's here?" The last word came out as a near squeak.
The subject of the question raised her head from her examination of her things, looking at the man who'd asked. "What is he saying?" she asked James.
"Darien told him what you did, and he knows you're like Lucan," he replied.
Pulling James with her, she approached Bobby. "Tell him," she said, "as exactly as you can, that while Lucan and I shared some abilities I'm nothing like him."
After James had translated that precisely, Bobby's mouth moved in what was very nearly a smile. "Feisty little thing; wish I could see her," he quipped.
When that was translated back to her, she got a very thoughtful look, as if debating something with herself. Then she made an odd request: could she see his eyes without the bandages?
Hope flashed into Darien's eyes as he urged Claire to do it. If she could pull him out of QSM, maybe --
Through James, she asked Bobby if she could touch him, and he agreed, reluctantly. After Claire had cut away the bandages, Alayna warned them not to touch either of them while she was working, saying it could be fatal to them both. She reached out and gently put her hands over his eyes, closed her own, and concentrated. Golden light spread across the pair, and she could feel, as she often did when healing, another set of hands covering her own. She could sense flesh knitting and returning to its normal condition under her hands.
A few moments later, the light faded and she opened her eyes. She raised her hands and brushed away the stitches which now lay atop his nearly unmarked skin, pink lines fading even as they watched. He caught her hands with his own and lowered them, opening his eyes and blinking against the light to focus them. "I can see," he whispered, relieved tears of joy sliding down his face. He chuckled and said, "I'm never going to regard 'Be careful what you wish for' as a warning again."
Claire insisted on examining him immediately, and chased her three guests out of the room. Alayna snatched up her things as she left, and the trio waited in a room nearby. She buckled on the belt and settled it on her hips, slipped on her knapsack and adjusted it for the most comfort, and told James she was ready to leave.
"You can't go just yet," he told her.
"Why not?" she asked.
"There are a lot of unanswered questions concerning both Lucan and yourself," he said. "We'd also like the opportunity to study your abilities and see how they might best be utilized by our agency."
Her eyes narrowed. "You would hold me here against my will?"
Although he couldn't understand the words, Darien noted the narrowed eyes and angry expression on Alayna's face. "What's going on here? What are you telling her?"
"Stay out of this, Fawkes," James warned. "It doesn't concern you."
"You're trying to con her into the Agency, aren't you?" he accused.
"Her abilities would be a major asset," the other man confirmed. "Getting her to work for us would be quite a coup."
"What about what she wants?" Darien said. "She may have somebody back wherever that needs her there. She may not want to stay here."
"Then she'll just have to be persuaded, won't she?" James replied.
PART 11
While the two men argued neither one noticed Alayna move into a corner, gesture with her hands and recite a quick spell under her breath. What they did notice was glow of light as the door between worlds opened once again, but neither man was able to intercept her as Alayna stepped through and returned to her own world. A flash of light and the door closed behind her.
"You idiot!" James screamed at Darien, finally snapping over the way the man had treated him all week and the loss of what would have surely meant a promotion for him. "You let her get away!"
"She'd have done that at the first opportunity anyway," Darien pointed out in a reasonable tone of voice.
James went absolutely purple at the other man's tone. "That's it!! I'm going straight upstairs and tell them to find you another partner! How Hobbes puts up with you is beyond me!"
"Actually, I do it very well, thank you," Bobby said, leaning, fully dressed, on the wall next to the open doorway to the lab. "While you're up there, tell 'em Bobby Hobbes is on the job and ready to take on the bad guys!" He moved out of James' way as the thoroughly disgruntled agent left.
Leaving him alone with Darien.
Alone.
With Darien.
Bobby's eyes dropped to the floor as he recalled the last time he'd been alone with the man before him. "Listen, I'll understand if you want someone else for a partner. You shouldn't have to worry if I'm going to jump your bones on top of everything else you have deal with."
Darien's response was to walk over and close the door, locking it so they had privacy. "Having James for a partner gave me a new appreciation of you. I wouldn't have anyone else for a partner. But are you sure you're well enough?"
"Claire says I'm completely healed; apparently a side effect of her healing my eyes," Bobby replied. "I'm only sorry she had to leave before I could thank her."
"I'm sure she knows how grateful you are," his partner said, "and James was getting a little pushy about her joining the Agency. But, Bobby -- man -- you were so scared before, your head was so messed up; are you sure you're OK up here?" He tapped the side of Bobby's head for emphasis.
"I'm as OK as can be expected, given the fact I wasn't the world's sanest person before."
"You wouldn't freak out if, say, a guy put his hand on your shoulder?" Darien matched words with actions, putting a hand on Bobby's shoulder.
"Doesn't bother me."
"What if a guy put his arm around your shoulders?" Again, action matched words.
"I'm OK with that."
"What if he embraced you with both arms?"
"That would make me a little nervous, but then it would make most guys a little nervous." What was Darien doing? Why did his voice deepen and roughen like that?
"What if he kissed you?"
Bobby couldn't answer that right away; his lips were busy. The kiss was brief but thorough. "Darien, what are you doing?" He started to shake with reaction, and Darien's hold shifted, from intimate to comforting.
"I'm sorry, Bobby. I'm so sorry. I should have waited; I know it's way too soon, but when you disappeared I thought I'd never have the chance to do that." What was he thinking? It hadn't even been a week since he'd been rescued, and here he was trying to seduce him! He wouldn't blame Bobby if he punched him and left. Left the lab, left the building, and left the Agency.
"You want me?" Bobby whispered, hopeful and afraid. "You want me, after -- after what -- what he did?"
"I've wanted you for a while now," Darien whispered back. "What he did wasn't your fault, and it doesn't make me want you any less. I just need to remember to wait until you're ready. If you ever are. I -- don't even know if -- if you -- go that way."
"If you'd asked me that six months ago, I'd've gotten all huffy and threatened to punch you just for asking. Now -- I honestly don't know. For a while -- I was thinking about it. Maybe as a one-shot. Now the whole idea's scary. It may be a really long wait."
PART 12
Although Bobby Hobbes returned to work the next day (over Claire's protests), it was six months, a lot of therapy (Claire provided her case notes to Bobby's therapist), and several false starts before he was secure enough to attempt sex with Darien.
They'd wrapped up a difficult and dangerous case, and the Official had given them a three-day weekend.
"Do you have any plans?" Darien asked hopefully as they were walking to their cars.
"No," Bobby replied, "you?"
"Un-uh. You wanna try?" he asked shyly.
"I guess we could," the shorter man replied, equally shy. "Your place, my place, or neutral ground?"
"I'm comfortable with anything you want."
"My place, about 7? Bring take-out."
"Any preference?"
"Whatever you want."
Darien showed up at Bobby's shortly after 7 with Chinese take-out, a bottle of red wine, condoms and water-based lube (discreetly hidden in an inner pocket of his jacket), and high hopes for the weekend. He rang the bell and waited a few uneasy moments before Bobby opened the door.
The apartment was neat as a pin and completely dust-free. The residual smell of furniture polish told Darien Bobby had probably worked off a case of nerves with a fit of cleaning. Clean sheets on the bed, too, I'll bet, he thought. They'd both showered and shaved after coming home from work, including enemas, so they were thoroughly clean.
They chatted through dinner about guy things: sports, cars, politics. Then they refilled their wineglasses and moved to the couch. Darien started the evening with a few gentle kisses, but when he started to press for more Bobby stiffened and he drew back. "This isn't working. We need a new plan."
"It'll have to come from you; you're the one with the experience here. I don't know what to do."
"You do know what to do, at least at the start. It's not that much different from what you do with a woman. What would you do if it were Viv or Claire?"
Bobby licked his lips, a little uncertain, then reached over and pulled Darien's head to him, covering his mouth with own. They made good progress from there, Bobby controlling the pace and Darien giving him encouragement and occasionally advice. Soon they were sans shirts and enjoying the feel of skin on skin, thoroughly aroused. Bobby stood and pulled Darien to his feet and into the bedroom.
Bobby continued to lead in the bedroom, unfastening Darien's belt and trousers and pushing them off his lean hips. He undid his own and let them fall, pushing Darien back onto the bed and following him there. They paused a moment to finish ridding themselves of trousers, shoes, and socks before returning to exploring the newly-exposed flesh.
The smaller man turned suddenly shy and uncertain at this point. It was completely new territory for him, but his partner took his hand and guided him to the next step. With Darien's voice and hands to guide him, Bobby soon regained his confidence and began to relax, enjoy, and explore. Soon the pair were writhing around naked on the bed. Bobby still wasn't ready for intercourse, but they did manage a session of mutual masturbation which was thoroughly enjoyable. They cleaned up all the sticky stuff and curled into each other's arms to sleep.
The next morning they shared a shower and took turns shaving before having a light breakfast and returning to bed. After a long session of mutual kissing, fondling, and licking, Bobby allowed his lover to slip a well-lubed finger into his anus and carefully start stretching him. After he relaxed, Darien added first a second and then a third finger, gently loosening the tight muscles and stroking his prostate. Bobby gasped at the pleasant sensation which shot through him and pushed back on the fingers inside him, moaning and pleading for more.
He straddled Darien's hips and slowly impaled himself on Darien's condom-covered manhood, moaning again at the sensation of fullness. This was far better than any dream or fantasy, and he paused to look down at the only man he'd ever willingly give himself to sexually. What he saw caused his heart and other parts of his anatomy to leap with joy. Darien was looking at him with such love and joy he could barely believe it. He leaned forward carefully for a long, passionate kiss before beginning to move, and soon they were thrusting together to a mind-numbing climax that came too soon for both of them, Darien finishing well ahead of his lover but continuing to stroke him to his release.
Bobby fell forward as Darien slipped out of him, catching himself on his elbows barely in time. Darien carefully removed the condom, tied it off and dropped it on the floor beside the bed. "Sorry," he apologized to the man whose head now rested on his chest.
" 'Sall right, Darien," Bobby replied sleepily, "we'll do better with practice," Darien felt his lips curve into a smile he couldn't see, "and I intend to get in as much practice as possible in the next few decades."
FINIS