Invisible Touch
by Penemuel

I must be going soft -- a year ago, I never would have done something dumb like this -- never would have let my guard down around someone who -- through no fault of his own, mind you. Well, almost none -- could go wacko on me at any time...

But what the hell am I supposed to do when this kid I'm supposed to be protecting -- and who I like a hell of a lot more than I should -- comes pounding on my door at two in the morning, desperate, in pain and terrified...

I let him in. God, what an ass... Goin' soft, Bobby -- you're gonna get yourself killed...

--==**==--

The pain was unbelievable, but it only lasted for a second or two. That was a good sign -- it was still early enough to do something about it without becoming too dangerous. Darien Fawkes grabbed his jacket and ran from his apartment, jogging down the street in search of a cab as he headed towards his partner's apartment. Hobbes would know what to do, he'd get him to the Keeper before it was too late. And then, they'd have a talk about getting him some wheels so he didn't have to bother someone else when he had to get somewhere at ungodly hours of the night. Hobbes was just going to love this...

He could feel the sweat burst out on his forehead, prayed that it was normal sweat -- he didn't need to be making matters any worse before he even reached the apartment. Taking a split second to glance down at himself, relief flooded him as he realized he could still see himself. It was then that the next burst of pain hit, tripping him, sprawling him out on the hard asphalt with a harsh cry as his knee hit hard. That pain almost overrode the mind-numbing agony burning hotly in the back of his head -- almost. He hauled himself to his feet again and viciously scrubbed the tears from his face. God, it hurt...

He started running again, more careful this time, knowing that distractions would eventually eat away at his control as much as using the damned quicksilver would. _Should have called first, asshole. He could have met you on the way..._

Focusing on the throb from his knee and channeling everything into running, he finally made it to Hobbes' apartment. Breathlessly, he leaned on the doorframe and pounded on the door until he heard footsteps coming. "Hobbes," he gasped, "C'mon, Partner, it's me! I need help..."

He heard a muffled, "Shit!" and then a series of locks being opened in quick succession. Someone was really going to have to talk to Hobbes about that paranoia thing, but right now he was just glad that his partner was there. When the door opened, revealing the older man wearing nothing but an undershirt and shorts and carrying his gun, Fawkes staggered in, nearly collapsing on his partner. Grunting under Fawkes' weight, Hobbes looked outside, gun at the ready until he was sure there were no villains chasing his partner. Then, finally, he helped Fawkes inside and shut the door, throwing about half of the locks before he turned his attention to his partner again.

"What the hell happened to you, Kid?" he asked, putting the gun aside when he got a better look at the younger man. "Shit -- you're bleeding."

"Fell in the street," Fawkes panted, relieved when Hobbes helped him over to the couch and sat him down. He gingerly propped his leg on the coffee table, finally looking at the scrape. "Shit..."

"What's wrong?" Hobbes persisted, knowing there had to be *some* reason for Fawkes to be running in the street at this hour -- late-night jogging just didn't seem to be his kind of hobby.

"The headaches are starting. Thought I had another day but it woke me right out of a sound sleep," Fawkes said, finally catching his breath. "I had to get to you so we could get to the Keeper..."

"You shoulda called, Kid," Hobbes said, his voice uncharacteristically soft. He hurried to the bathroom to get the first aid kit and some towels, pausing long enough to soak a washcloth in warm water. When he returned to the living room he tossed the washcloth to Fawkes and said, "Wash your face, Fawkes, you're sweating; let me look at your knee."

Fawkes did as he was told, knowing that Hobbes had seen his tears but didn't comment on them. It brought a little smile to his face to think that Bobby Hobbes could actually show some kindness at times. Then a sharp jab of pain hit him as Hobbes probed at the edges of his torn jeans and the bloody scrape on his knee, and he gasped.

Hobbes looked up at him and frowned; said, "We're gonna have to get your jeans off so I can clean this properly -- just gonna hurt you more if I try to do it with them in the way..." He was proud of himself -- he'd managed to say that with a straight face! Just what the hell was he going to do when Fawkes was sitting on his couch in his shorts -- or did the kid wear briefs? -- with those long legs stretched out in front of him? "Let me get your sneakers off, then you can stand up and we'll get the jeans off." _Oh god..._

Fawkes allowed him to remove the sneakers, then tried to stand up. With a little difficulty, they finally got him standing, now favoring the wounded leg. Adrenaline, along with any endorphins the long run had pumped into his system, had faded, leaving him shaky and more sensitive to pain than he had been earlier. He unbuckled his belt and unfastened his jeans, pulling them down past his hips before he hurriedly sat down again. From there, Hobbes took over, sliding the worn denim down further and tugging one leg completely off before turning his attention to the wounded leg.

"Okay, Kid, gonna be as careful as I can, you just take it easy," Hobbes said, trying to swallow and realizing the sight of the black cotton briefs had made his mouth go completely dry. _Nice..._ the little voice in the back of his mind whispered as he noticed the generous bulge in those briefs. Then he forced his mind away from those long, lean thighs and back to his partner's injury. Careful not to touch the scrape itself, he pulled the jeans up away from the scrape and slid them off, tossed them aside.

Glancing up at Fawkes, he saw that his partner had settled back against the couch, trying to get as comfortable as possible. "That's good, Kid, you don't need to watch this -- just be prepared because I'm gonna clean it and it's gonna sting like a bitch..."

Fawkes nodded, then leaned back and closed his eyes as Hobbes tore open an alcohol swab and carefully cleaned the area around the wound. "Didn't hurt that much..." Fawkes murmured, and then Hobbes used a second swab on the wound itself. "Oh *shit*!"

"Sorry, Kid..." Hobbes murmured, then, "Nasty case of road rash here, but it's not as deep as I thought it was, and you haven't cracked your knee. Gonna need some ice on it though -- it's already swelling." Suddenly the leg he was focusing so closely on jerked, and he turned his attention to the rest of his partner in time to see him arch back in pain and grasp the back of his head. "Shit."

"Hobbes," Fawkes gasped when he could finally remember how to form words, "You gotta get me to the Keeper..."

"That's the problem, Kid, you shoulda called -- you know she's not there at this time of night..." Hobbes said softly. "And I don't think she keeps any of the counteragent at home..."

"Crap," Fawkes grunted. "Call her, tell her to get to the lab and bring some here, then -- something. *Please...*" And when he opened his eyes, Hobbes could see the red beginning to make its inroads already...

"Yeah -- uh...Lemme get you some water and some Tylenol, and I'll call her right now," Hobbes said as calmly as possible. This was just not good...

He stood and headed for the kitchen, getting a glass of water and filling it, then downing half of it himself. Sighing, he got a second glass and filled that one, then grabbed the phone and started dialing while he brought the glass out to Fawkes. Rummaging in the first aid kit, he located a small pack of pain killers and handed his partner two pills. While Fawkes swallowed those and drank the water, he found a large square band-aid and muttered foul things at the ringing phone.

Fawkes watched as Hobbes opened the band-aid package and peeled the back off, then squeezed antibiotic ointment onto the pad. Then his partner gingerly placed the prepared bandage over his scrape and pressed the edges down as gently as possible. He winced, but Hobbes had a surprisingly gentle touch. "There, how's that?" Hobbes asked, looking up at him.

He didn't want to know what he looked like at that moment, because he could see the fear in Hobbes' eyes and the cursing at the phone increased -- and then suddenly stopped.

"What? No! Don't call the cops! Shit -- it's Hobbes! I've got Fawkes over here at my place, and he needs some of the stuff *now* before he goes Gland-Boy on me!" Hobbes put a hand over the phone and said, "I got her, Kid, you'll be okay. Just hang in there, huh?" And then he took the hand away again and said, "What? Oh, meet you there? Yeah, that would be the best thing -- faster that way. Except for one thing -- how the hell am I supposed to drive if he loses it and tries to kill me?" Then a quick look of chagrin and the hand over the receiver again, "Sorry, Kid."

Fawkes nodded -- he couldn't blame Hobbes for being worried -- it was a very real risk...

"Yeah," Hobbes said, obviously talking to the Keeper again, "No! I'm not going to *do* that -- you're just going to have to hurry there and get back here to my place as fast as you can. Okay? *Now*..." and then he hung up.

"She told you to tie me up," Fawkes said before he could. Hobbes nodded, and he continued, "Maybe you should..."

"No, damn it, I'm not going to do that," Hobbes said, "It's just not right." Even if he was watching Fawkes descending into Quicksilver madness right in front of him...

"Why's that, Hobbes?" Fawkes purred in a tone that sent shivers through him, "Afraid you'll enjoy it too much?" Then Fawkes smiled darkly and added, "Or are you afraid *I* will?"

"Whoa, Partner, I don't know what the hell you're talking about... Why don't you just sit back and relax -- try some deep breathing or something..." Hobbes said quickly, trying to get a handle on the fear before it made him do something really dumb. Gland-Boy was a predator, and when predators got a whiff of fear... It just wasn't pretty.

"Sure you don't, Bobby," Fawkes purred, leaning back on the couch and spreading his thighs wide. "I've seen you checking me out, *Partner*; you like what you see?" Hobbes swallowed hard and surreptitiously glanced around, praying he didn't look as frantic as he felt. He finally spotted the gun -- on a bookshelf over by the door; out of reach for the immediate future. When he looked back at Fawkes, the younger man was stroking a hand up and down his thigh and smiling like he knew every secret Hobbes kept. "So, Bobby, you want to try and tie me up?"

"C'mon, Fawkes, this isn't you...The Gland--"

"Oh, but it is me, isn't it -- that's what the old man was trying to tell me. It's all me! Monsters from the Id, Bobby, monsters from the Id!" He laughed, a low, unpleasant sound that made Hobbes' hackles rise; then he stood in one smooth, sensuous move that didn't even seem human. Hobbes involuntarily took a step back, then froze as Fawkes vanished from sight.

"Shit," he muttered through his teeth, then strained every sense to try and figure out where Fawkes was. All of his training, and he couldn't find his own partner in his own apartment! Thinking that the first thing Fawkes would do was circle around him for the gun, he spun and grabbed at empty air. His gun was still there, and he took a step towards it, planning to arm himself before Gland-Boy got his hands on it -- and gasped as strong, icy, *invisible* arms wrapped around him from behind, one around his waist and the other around his neck. Damn, they were cold!

Fawkes' voice purred in his ear, the cold, quicksilver-coated lips brushing against him, sending shivers through him; "Where're you goin', Bobby? Isn't this what you've been wanting?

Hobbes shook his head and whispered, "C'mon, Fawkes, be a good boy and let me go, we can just sit down and talk until the Keeper shows..." It wasn't so much that Fawkes was *stronger* when he was in the grips of the madness, just that he didn't *care* if he hurt anyone...

"Y'know, Bobby," Fawkes purred, sliding his arm back so that his hand gripped Hobbes' throat, relishing the little catch in his partner's breath as he squeezed slightly, "You keep calling me 'Kid', but I'm more than old enough to know what you're after -- and it *isn't* sitting around and *talking*..." He ground his hips into Hobbes' and groaned at the heat he could feel against his body.

"Sorry, Fawkes -- it's a habit. You're younger than me," Hobbes explained, trying to sound calm. He could feel how hard Fawkes was as he ground that impressive erection into him -- what the hell did you do when everything you ever wanted was suddenly throwing itself at you, and you were terrified of accepting it? "You're freezing my fucking throat, Fawkes..."

"Call me Darien, Bobby. After all, we're closer than that now, aren't we..." and the arm around his waist moved this time, releasing him for a moment and shaking the Quicksilver off, then sliding his hand down into Hobbes' shorts and going for his cock. "Oh yeah, Bobby, you're getting hard for me," Fawkes purred into his ear. "You want me so bad, don't you..."

Hobbes tried -- and failed -- to restrain a groan as Fawkes' tongue flicked into his ear while the hand wrapped around his cock and stroked insistently. He realized Fawkes had moved him, turned him back away from the door now -- he never remembered moving his feet... "Fawkes -- stop -- *Darien*! You don't want to do this -- don't have to do this..."

"How do you know what I do and don't want, Hobbes?" Fawkes whispered, "Did you ever *ask*?"

Before Hobbes could say anything, that incredibly distracting tongue was back, thrusting deep into his ear and sending a shiver through him as he thought about the other things that tongue could be doing. "Didn't think I'd have to ask -- I've seen you around the ladies," Hobbes managed to answer finally, when he could collect his thoughts enough to speak.

"Yeah, that's true," Fawkes purred, "But pleasure is pleasure, Partner, and I intend to take it where I can find it..."

_Of course,_ Hobbes thought, _No higher brain functions, no inhibitions... Oh man..._

"Starting to like that idea, aren't you, Bobby?" Fawkes murmured against his ear. "Hope you're ready for things to get a little bit kinky -- how d'you like the idea of being fucked by someone you can't see?" He chuckled softly and purred, "If you're really good, I won't even kill you..." The hand that had been around Hobbes' throat moved, suddenly diving down to push his undershirt up and tease his nipples.

Hobbes yelped, then shivered violently as the icy fingertips plucked at his tightening nipples. "Darien, c'mon, you're freezing me. You can't do this covered in Quicksilver, you're gonna give me frostbite!" He swallowed hard again, his mouth gone completely dry once more.

"Oh yeah, Bobby, that's good..." Fawkes purred, feeling him gradually beginning to succumb to the stimuli. Soft, almost silent moans slipped out, sending fire through Fawkes' veins -- he was making Hobbes lose his precious control, and soon he'd have him screaming and begging...

Hobbes' cock was almost completely erect now, ignoring the fear that thundered through his veins in favour of the lust that had already claimed his partner's soul. His body didn't care that this wasn't the Darien Fawkes he really wanted; completely swept away in the heat of the moment, it was too far gone to listen to his mind screaming that there really *was* a difference. When Quicksilver-coated lips and that tongue traced the path down his neck and to his shoulder, he tilted his head back and groaned. Then teeth fastened onto the muscle and bit down, hard enough to hurt and bruise, but not hard enough to tear the flesh. "Ow! Shit, Fawkes, that *hurt*!"

_Uh oh..._ For a moment, he'd been so overwhelmed by sensation that he had forgotten how dangerous Fawkes really was when the Gland had control. _Big mistake!_ Suddenly, the invisible hand was back around his throat, the other hand sliding from his cock down to grab his balls cruelly. He couldn't restrain a gasp of pain as Fawkes twisted that grip slightly.

"I don't *care* if it hurt, Bobby," Fawkes growled in his ear, "This is for me, Partner, not you... Now, walk -- we're goin' to see your bedroom..." A shiver ran through him at the thought of fucking Hobbes in his own bed -- the paranoid agent's fear was invading his senses, the scent of it driving him wild...

Walking was difficult with Fawkes wrapped around him, and every step took him further from the gun and freedom, closer to his doom... If he was really good, Fawkes might let him live -- until some weird-ass, miniscule thing set off Gland-Boy's temper and he snapped his neck. Or crushed his throat. Or--

"Hey, Bobby, were you actually *asleep* when I showed up?" Fawkes asked, interrupting his pessimistic thoughts. He looked up at his bed, where he had dragged the bedclothes partially onto the floor when he had hurried for the door. "Or, were you lying there, fantasizing about me? Thinking about what it would feel like to have my cock in your mouth -- or up your ass?"

The hand on his balls loosened its grip again, gentle stroking resuming as Hobbes thought, _No, actually things don't usually go that way -- not that I'm gonna say that with your hands where they are!_

And then Fawkes was whispering in his ear, "You don't *really* think it was gonna go the other way, do you?" Again that unpleasant laugh sent shivers through him, and to his considerable embarrasment he could feel the colour rise in his cheeks. "Sorry, Bobby, *that* ain't gonna happen..." He nipped Hobbes' earlobe, making him gasp. Then the invisible hand released him and shook off the Quicksilver, shimmering back into view amidst a shower of silvery particles. "Get on the bed, Partner," he murmured, giving Hobbes' cock a squeeze and then shoving him forward, hard.

Hobbes stumbled forward, bouncing awkwardly onto the bed and rolling over, scrambling back to put more space between himself and Fawkes. "You can't do this, Fawkes -- don't you get it? Your surface temperature is *below freezing*..." He blinked at the two arms floating in the air before him, trying not to let the image disorient him further. _Just too damned weird!_ he thought.

"You're right, Hobbes," Fawkes said quietly, sounding as calm as could be. Hobbes watched, fascinated despite himself, as one of the hands reached down and grasped something. The next thing he knew, there was another shower of silvery particles, and suddenly Fawkes' cock and balls were also visible.

"Oh, now that's just *too* weird..."

"It's warm enough for you, now, Partner," Fawkes purred, stalking forward. He smiled, seeing Hobbes' eyes lock onto his erection; seeing his partner swallow hard and involuntarily lick his lips. "Oh yeah," he whispered.

Hobbes' eyes widened as an indentation appeared on the edge of the bed, followed by another one closer to him; he realized that Fawkes was walking on his knees towards him. The disembodied arms and genitals approached, and despite himself, Hobbes felt a chuckle escape him. "Fawkes, this is too weird," he repeated, just before the hands grasped his ankles and pulled him down, hard. Okay, maybe he was a *little* stronger when the Gland was in charge... "You know, the rest of you's still freezing," Hobbes protested, trying to hide the nervousness in his tone; trying to sound like his normal smart-assed self -- this *wasn't* the way this was supposed to happen...

The hands reached up and grasped the waistband of Hobbes' shorts, then tugged them down in one sudden move. Hobbes swallowed a gasp, feeling the colour rise in his cheeks as his erection sprang free, ignoring every ounce of common sense in him. He heard Fawkes' chuckle and frowned, trying to judge what his partner's next move was going to be -- he couldn't hide his body's interest in the proceedings, as much as he wanted to, and he was well aware that Fawkes would ignore his protests if he tried...

"You're so hard for me, Bobby," Fawkes purred, confirming his suspicions; "You want me so much it hurts, doesn't it..." Hobbes saw a hand reach out and grasp his cock, and couldn't restrain a groan as Fawkes squeezed and stroked him. "Oh yeah..." Fawkes sighed as Hobbes arched into his touch. He smiled, knowing that Hobbes was trying to see where he was, trying to judge his next move -- he knew how much it disturbed his partner to not be able to do so.

Hobbes shivered as Fawkes released his cock and moved closer -- he could feel the temperature drop around him, see the indentations in the bed on either side of his hips as the disembodied cock drew closer. He couldn't help staring at the organ bobbing in front of him, the drop of precum glistening on the dark head -- despite himself, he swallowed hard and looked up, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't see his partner's eyes. He wanted to push Fawkes away, to yell 'Bobby Hobbes don't suck cock!' -- except he knew that was a lie; Bobby Hobbes would do what he had to do to survive. At least his partner was clean -- maybe a little sweaty, but he'd showered sometime that day -- it wasn't like in that stinkhole in Iraq... He shuddered and violently shoved that memory back into the box it came from; focused on the cock in front of him. He could hurt Fawkes -- he could grab and twist and shove his partner off, or even smack him hard enough in the balls to make him lose interest -- except that the kid was still his partner and it wasn't his fault he'd gone psycho again... He could do a lot of things to stop Fawkes, but as the cock and balls got even closer and the cold now wrapped itself around his torso, he couldn't make himself move to try a single one of them... And then the cock was bumping into his lips...

"Suck me, Bobby," Fawkes ordered, twitching his hips once and making his cock nudge hard against Hobbes' mouth, smearing precum across his lips. Somewhere -- faint and fading with every moment -- he could hear a voice screaming for him to stop what was happening. He ignored it, and looked down to savor the fear in Hobbes' eyes. "Come on, Bobby, I know you want it -- I know you're good enough to stop me if you wanted to..."

Again, Fawkes was using what he'd learned about him against him -- Hobbes swallowed hard as the blunt head bounced its way back and forth along his lips. God -- he couldn't do this; had to stop it! And then he found himself parting his lips ever so slightly, the tip of his tongue darting out to lick the precum from his lips and to tentatively touch the pulsing organ. Fawkes groaned and twitched his hips forward again, forcing his cock past Hobbes' lips and into his mouth.

Instinctively, Hobbes tried to push it out of the way with his tongue, the back of his throat closing down against the intruder. And then Fawkes settled for a moment on his chest, the icy cold shocking him and making him cry out -- the next thing he knew, the cock was past his tongue and nearly down his throat, the gag reflex hitting for a moment and making him choke. And that was when Fawkes made it obvious that he wasn't taking 'no' for an answer. He moved onto all fours above Hobbes and began fucking his mouth for all he was worth, not missing the fact that once the initial surprise and shock was gone Hobbes' throat opened and accepted him quite handily. "Oh yeah, you're good at this, Bobby," he purred, thrusting into his partner's mouth and relishing the liquid heat that enveloped him. He could feel Hobbes' throat muscles working his shaft; his tongue stroking what it could reach almost eagerly...

Hobbes forced himself to open and let Fawkes in -- it was going to happen, and he could either fight it and get them both hurt, or he could go along with it. It was just easier overall to let it happen -- it wasn't Fawkes' fault, he reminded himself. _It's not Darien's fault. It's not Darien's fault..._ And when Fawkes thrust deep Hobbes' nose was buried in his pubic hair, the warm musky scent surrounding him making him that much more interested in the proceedings. It was just like the dreams, except that there he was in control of the situation, and Fawkes *asked*...

He knew he was still erect, but this was Fawkes -- it was okay -- he'd wanted Fawkes for so long now that he couldn't really remember when it had changed from protectiveness to caring and then to desire. It was okay to be hard because it was -- _oh god!_ He just couldn't talk himself into it -- it *wasn't supposed to be like this!*

Instinct took over and he bit down -- not hard enough to damage, but certainly hard enough to get Fawkes' attention. Then, he grabbed where he knew Fawkes thighs had to be and shoved, hard enough to push him back and out of his mouth. The hands were grasping for him now, one of them closing on an ear and the other flailing out of reach before it fastened on his shoulder. He ducked his head to try to escape the ear hold, then pressed up and scrambled to get his legs beneath himself. Continuing the momentum from there, he rolled them off the bed, landing on top of Fawkes with a grunt.

In surprise, Fawkes let him go. Hobbes made a break for the door, scrambling to his feet and making a run for it, never seeing the disembodied genitals and arms fade once again from sight. As he neared the door he heard footsteps outside, part of him so relieved he nearly fainted, the rest horrified that the Keeper might see this and suggest that they be separated -- he didn't want that! And then his invisible pursuer brought him down in a tackle that would have made NFL receivers wince.

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.