Author: Courtney Cummings (sage 26)

Copyright October 17, 2000. All rights reserved

Edgar Allen Poe once wrote: "All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream." Well, this is the account of the time when Darien Fawkes began to take that quote seriously. Very seriously.

* * * * * * * *

"There you go, Darien. All set," the Keeper cheerily remarked.

Darien sat up in the examination chair situated at the center of the Keeper's lab. Vividly showing off her prize experiment, Darien himself. He rolled down his sleeve, satisfied that his sanity would retain its tenancy inside his skull for another few days.

"Hey, Keep," he said casually, "Got a question."

"Shoot."

"If you hadn't been some sort of teen genius with a big fat degree, and you hadn't been offered a job by a covert government organization, what kind of job would you have looked into?"

Claire scratched her chin in thought. "Hmm, let's see. I'm stupid and poor. A thief."

Darien offered his keeper a sardonic laugh and glared at her. He then jumped off the chair and exited the lab in search of Hobbes. He found him standing in front of the Official's desk.

"Ah, I see you decided to join us today, Darien," the Official commented when he saw him enter the room.

"Yeah, well, I thought about staying home today. You know, watch some TV. But I figured what they heck, I'd come in. What's another day in my life down the drain, working for an agency that doesn't know the meaning of the word 'paycheck'?"

"Aw, poor Fawkes. You're so mistreated. I'm the one who goes out there and busts most of the bad guys and psychos. And I do it while I'm visible."

Hobbes and his partner continued arguing for the next five minutes before the Official interjected, "Both of you, shut up."

The two men stopped bickering for a moment to stare at the portly man.

"I still deserve the raise more," Hobbes muttered under his breath. Darien was about to counter, but the Official raised his hand, demanding their attention.

"Hobbes, Fawkes. We here at the Agency have decided that your services rendered to this country merit a vacation. So both of you will be spending the next week or so in exotic India."

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Hobbes announced appreciatively. "Finally, a little recognition for my superior work."

Darien, however, was always the skeptic. "Ok, large boy, what exactly will we be doing there? Cause I know it won't be enjoying a relaxing trip down a mosquito infested river."

The Official sighed and reached into his desk to remove a file. Darien took it while Hobbes, still confused, looked on.

"Eberts, brief 'em," he commanded.

"A few days ago, an Indian terrorist group hijacked an American military truck which was delivering a weapons shipment to a compound 400 miles south of Bombay. This truck was transporting a new type of missile that has been manufactured in secret. It has more than twice the destructive power of a hydrogen bomb and is nearly one-quarter the size. The terrorist group, which calls itself the Indian National Peace Organization, has crossed over the line with this action, and now the government has become involved."

"So we get to go down there and clean up the mess," Darien concluded.

"Correct." The Official took back the folder and handed them a picture of a building. "This is where the group has taken the missile prototype. With it, they can mass produce the weapon, so it is essential you use your skills and DON'T SCREW UP."

"Where do you think up these stupid missions? What, did the have a two-for-one sale at 'Suicide Missions-R-Us'?"

"Yeah, and what about our vacation?" Hobbes asked, dejectedly.

"Any time left over after the mission has been completed I leave up to you two to determine how it is spent. Now, a car will pick you up in the morning and drive you to a private airbase. There, a plane provided by the Agency will fly you to a small airstrip a few hundred miles from the village where the terrorists' building is located. The rest is up to you."

"Wait a minute," Darien protested. "This agency can afford a private jet and the cost to keep it, yet can't afford a pay raise for its top agents?"

"That's correct. Life's just not fair, is it?" the Official replied smugly. Darien grabbed his partner and stormed out of the office.

"So once again it's up to Bobby Hobbes and his partner to save the world."

"'Bobby Hobbes and his partner'? Tell me something Hobbes," Darien said, "Do you always talk about yourself in the third person?"

"Bobby Hobbes doesn't answer stupid questions posed by junior agents."

* * * * * * * *

Darien slammed his suitcase shut and zipped it closed. DarienTheRat was spending the week at the Keeper's lab, and a neighbor had agreed to water his bonsai tree, so everything was accounted for.

He heard a car pull up outside and locked the door as he walked out. To him, the black car with darkened windows seemed to scream "secret agency." As he stepped in the car, he noticed the Keeper. Before he could protest, she said, "The Official sent me along in case you need another shot."

"Don't you people trust me to do it myself?"

Hobbes and Claire answered in a simultaneous, "No."

The atmosphere was tense, each harboring their own thoughts, When they boarded the small plane, Hobbes sat in a seat by himself, probably playing out in his mind how the mission would go. Claire had her nose buried in a scientific journal. Darien decided he would lose himself in his dreams. They were probably safer than reality anyway. Only a short nap was needed...

Darien awoke with a start. His dreams hadn't provided any comfort. He sat up in the chair he had been sleeping in and looked around the cabin. He glanced out the window and found they had landed. It was dark outside, but the overhead lights provided sufficient illumination for him.

Both Hobbes and the Keeper were gone, so Darien assumed they were outside. Were they in India already? How long had he been asleep?

He decided not to rack his brain about it. It had enough problems already. Darien slowly opened one of the side doors and was greeted by a cool blast of night air. He took it in and sighed. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he began to search for his partner and the Keeper. The scene that greeted him was desolate. The sun was contemplating rising over a desert field, and a van that looked almost as pitiful as the one back at the Agency was parked outside a small building. There was a light on inside, so he decided to check it out. He knocked on the door, and it opened, revealing Hobbes, weary-eyed and yawning.

"Yeah, what do you want, Fawkes?" he asked. "Well, a wake up call would have been nice. Were you gonna let me spend the night in the jet?"

"It's a lot more comfy in there than in here. Keeper claimed the only bed, said it was some 'feminine' thing, and I got the couch. Only thing left's a chair or the floor. Sweet dreams." With that, Hobbes turned back to the couch and fell asleep. Darien was speechless. He grabbed a pillow off the chair and tried to get some sleep.

* * * * * * *

"Wake up, Darien," the Keeper called from what seemed a very far distance. Someone began to shake him. Not gently. He opened his eyes, and almost screamed when he saw Hobbes' face an inch from his own.

"Geez, Hobbes! Can we say 'personal space'?"

"You have no personal space, my friend. Every inch of you is owned by the government. Now get up. If you'll remember, we have a job to complete."

Darien grudgingly pushed himself to the bathroom and put on clean clothes and a jacket.

"Fawkes! C'mon!" his partner called from outside. Darien grabbed his things and crammed into the back of the van waiting outside with Hobbes and the Keeper.

"This seems a bit familiar," Darien commented.

"Now," Hobbes began as he unfolded a map, "This is the building where the INPO stashed the missile. Security around it's sparse, but inside there's a camera wherever you look. No prob."

"What about guards? And locks?"

"You're a thief. Don't you know how to get around 'em?" Darien just glared at Hobbes.

"A'right, friend on the inside got us a key. Here. The missile is being stored in this room here. Guards shouldn't be a problem. Our employer has provided us with some knockout gas to make this go a little smoother."

"No," Darien said, "He's YOUR employer. He's my slave master. Get the facts straight."

The next hour was spent in silence. Darien mentally prepared for the task ahead, but one thought kept nagging him. The soldiers escorting the military shipment were more numerous and better armed than the terrorists, So why had they let them get away?

The van stopped a few hundred yards from the compound. It was located in Kumta, a small Indian town, so they weren't too conspicuous.

"There's an outside vent where I can drop the gas, but there's an airtight room inside they built for just such an occasion, and it won't be affected, so be careful. Here, take this." He handed Darien a gas mask.

"Ok, Mom." Darien put the mask on and stepped out of the van then, as discreetly as possible, he walked around to the rear of the building. Hobbes followed, even more obviously. After a quick look, Hobbes squatted down by a vent while Darien went see-through.

"Ready?" Hobbes called into the dead air.

"Yeah.

Hobbes pulled the tab on the canister of knockout gas and threw it into the vent. Darien walked around to the front door and entered. The guards were out, so Darien made a beeline for the room which held the missile. He unlocked the door, and saw something which nearly surprised him into going visible. Along with the missile in the room was a woman.

She was bound and gagged and unconcious, just like the guards. He decided it was all right to shake off the quicksilver, and he did so; however, a security camera had alerted the occupants of the airtight room to Darien's presence without his knowledge. He picked up the small case which held the weapon and placed it in the woman's arms. Two birds with one stone. He turned to the door by which he had entered, and found it blocked by a small army of men wearing gas masks. They filed in and formed a circle around Darien. One stepped forward.

"Had we known we would have company we could have planned a more fitting welcome," he said. Then he made a motion to the other men, who leveled their guns at Darien. "Good night, sir."

Darien barely had a moment to contemplate the meaning of this before a gun butt was brought down on the back of his head.

* * * * * * * *

A man tossed and turned; his dreams were foggy and shrouded in mystery. He was so confused and lost. Who was he?

"Mr. Fawkes?" a voice called.

He wanted to answer. The more he tried, the thinner the fog became, until he finally opened his eyes and squinted at the bright light that bombarded them.

"Please lie sill Mr. Fawkes. It's all right." His eyes began to focus, and the face of a woman came into view. A sharp pain seemed to palpitate through his head. He raised his hand to what he thought was the source, and it came away bloody.

"They really got you good," the woman commented, placing a cool cloth under the man's head in an effort to stop the bleeding coming from the base of his skull.

"Where am I?" he asked. He couldn't remember anything. Who he was. When it was. How he got here.

"Well, your guess is as good as mine, Mr. Fawkes. All I know is that we're somewhere in India. Other than that..." She let it hang.

"Why do you keep calling me 'Mr. Fawkes'?"

"That's your name, isn't it? That's what it said on your badge." She handed him the wallet she had been holding. He took a long look at it. Darien Fawkes. Department of Fish and Game. Special Agent.

"This is me?" he asked her.

"Near as I can tell. I'm Pierson. Pierson McBryde. I'm a nurse for the army unit that's stationed near here."

Darien closed his eyes in thought. He couldn't remember anything. Anything! He tried to stand up in hopes he could regain his memory if he did.

"Oh, no. Sit down. If you can't even remember your name, you certainly don't need to be walking around the jungle. You need to rest for at least a few minutes," Pierson chided. Darien complied and took a seat on the forest floor.

"How did we get here? I don't remember anything past the last few minutes."

"I guess the same terrorists that kidnaped me got a hold of you, too. Must've gotten tired of us and dumped us out here. They hijacked the convoy I was accompanying and kidnaped me for insurance the soldiers wouldn't follow. But that's all I know. I'm not even sure WHY they attacked us."

"Heh, that's more than me. I mean, my whole mind is- aah!" Darien screamed and curled up in a fetal position, clutching the wound on the back of his head.

"Oh! Wait! Let me see it!" Pierson turned him around and examined the injury. "It's not bleeding anymore. You shouldn't be in this much pain." A tone of sympathy colored her voice.

"Lie back and wait here."

Darien closed his eyes and did as she asked. The pain seemed to echo in his head. Reverberating through his skull. Pierson stood up and began to wander into the nearby bushes.

"Hey! Where are you going?" Darien asked her. "You're just gonna leave me here to be eaten by the next tiger that happens to wander by?"

"Relax. I'll only be gone a minute. I want to see if there's a stream anywhere around here. That's the only way we'd be able to find civilization, and we need to get you to a hospital. Tiger wouldn't have time to eat you."

"Oh that's reassuring," he muttered sarcastically. He craned his neck and watched as Pierson disappeared into the foliage. Unconsciously, he rubbed his head. The pain still lingered. Not wanting to aggravate it, he pulled his hand away when something on it caught his eye.

"What's this?" He raised his wrist to eye level and stared intently at the snake tattooed imprinted there. Half of it's segments were a lush green, like the surrounding jungle. The other half seemed to pulse an angry crimson.

"What's the matter, Darien?" Pierson called. Darien pulled his sleeve down, concealing the tattoo.

"Uh, nothing. Did you find water?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Just a little stream, but it's all we've got. C'mon." She extended her hand and helped Darien to his feet. Together, they walked to the stream and began their search for civilization.

* * * * * * * *

"Here, Darien. You sit down and rest. I'm gonna go see if I can find us some food," Pierson told him. When they came to a clearing after hours of walking, the two decided it was time to eat and rest.

"Are you some kind of Girl Scout or something? I mean, you look like you could survive on Mars with toothpaste and tape measure." Pierson chuckled at this.

"Actually," she replied, "I was, for a couple of years at least. Now stay here. I'll be back."

"Yes, Ma'am." He sat down on a nearby log and took out the wallet Pierson had given him. The face was a stranger. His memory was blank. It was so frustrating!

In his anger, Darien slammed his fist on the log. Then he saw the tattoo. It had changed. Now almost two-thirds of the segments had turned red. What was the matter with him? Then, he noticed the presence of eight tiny legs making their way up his arm. A spider! It didn't look dangerous, but for some reason, Darien was terrified of it. He jumped up onto the log, breathing heavily. Almost as if it sensed his fear, the spider turned and crept towards him, a tiger stalking its prey.

Darien could feel his blood pumping, adrenaline flowing. He scanned the clearing for a stick, while the spider crept closer. Frantically, he began to swat the air, hoping to frighten it away.

"What the?" He looked at his hand, which was slowly being engulfed by a metallic liquid.

Now he began to shake even more violently. The spider was all but forgotten.

"Darien?" Pierson called. "Are you ok?"

"Oh, yeah. Fine." He looked at his hand. The liquid was gone.

"What are you doing up there?" she chuckled. Darien hopped down from the log and sidled up to her.

"What are those?" he asked, staring at the fruit Pierson held in her hand.

"These are papayas." She held them out to Darien. "Go on, try one. They're nothing to be afraid of. They're not poisonous"

Suddenly, something clicked in his brain. He saw the image of a woman. English. She was wearing a lab coat and holding a microchip with a pair of tweezers

"It's nothing to be afraid of," she said.

Then he was back in the jungle with Pierson.

"Hello? Darien?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry. We're gonna EAT these?"

"Not if you wanna die of starvation. It'd be a shame to waste such a great body." She winked at him.

Darien felt his face turn pink, and he laughed nervously.

Pierson gathered some dry wood and started a small fire, then they ate the fruit she had gathered.

"Mmm, these aren't too bad," Darien commented.

"Yeah, I did a report on them in school once."

After they had finished their meal, Darien and Pierson decided they would wait until morning before continuing their search.

"So, uh, I guess I'll sleep here," Darien said, gesturing toward a small pile of leaves.

"Fine. I'll sleep over here. Well, good night, Mr. Fawkes." With that, they both tried to get some sleep.

That night, Darien had a dream. Or series of dreams, rather. His mind flashed images of a life he didn't remember. There was a man, older than Darien. He wore glasses and a lab coat. Darien searched his mind for the man's name. His thoughts were all jumbled, then...

"Kevin!" Darien screamed. He sat straight up. After taking a moment to look around him, he saw the sun beginning to rise over the trees. No man in a lab coat.

Cold sweat dripped from his forehead as he pushed himself up. Darien looked at his arm, and felt the urge to, once again, look at the snake tattooed on his wrist. He hesitantly rolled back his sleeve and looked.

"What am I?" he asked dejectedly, for now, all but three of the snake's segments were a bright red hue. What was happening?

He glanced over at Pierson, still sound asleep. She looked so carefree, even out here, in the middle of the jungle. At least she knew the life she would be returning to if they ever found civilization. Darien didn't even-

"Aaah!" he screeched, then stifled the following screams. His head felt like a sledge hammer had just been brought down on it. The pain was so intense! It was sickening.

"Darien?" Pierson sat up, weary-eyed, then realized what was happening. She ran over to him. "Darien! Are you all right?"

Darien slowly turned his face to hers. When she saw him, she gasped in fear. His eyes were severely bloodshot. She reached out to him, but he pushed her away violently.

"Get away from me!" he growled through clenched teeth, then he caught himself. "Oh, Pierson, I'm sorry," he apologized. "This is the second time this has happened, and I just don't want to hurt anyone. You go on without me."

"Nonsense," she replied, still a bit shaken up. "You need to get to a hospital, and as a registered nurse, I feel responsible for getting you there, alive."

Darien acquiesced, standing up to continue their journey, but he didn't trust himself at all. He neglected showing Pierson the tattoo, knowing it would only augment her fears.

"Now, Darien, I've been thinking," she said as they began walking. "You're a government agent, right? So there must be someone out looking for you. I figure the next big field we come to, we could stop and build a big fire. Then anyone flying overhead would see the smoke and rescue us, namely your search party."

"Let's hope I'm important enough to be searched for. After all, I'm... just a receptacle," he said to no one. He had seen an image of himself and two other men in an office as the words left his mouth, What was he talking about. A receptacle?

"What are you talking about?" Pierson asked, reading his mind.

"I don't know," he said worriedly.

Within a few hours, the heat of the noon-day sun forced the pair to halt and rest by the stream in a clearing. As he sat down, Darien began to rub the back of his head again.

"Are you all right, Darien?" Pierson asked, obviously concerned.

"Yeah, it's just my head. I got a terrible headache. I'll be ok," he lied. True, he didn't know what it was exactly, but he knew it wasn't good.

"Don't feed me that line. Maybe they ruptured something in your skull when they hit you."

"Well now I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Thanks for the talk, Pierson," Darien said sarcastically.

"Um, I'm gonna find some wood for the fire. You stay here and rest, ok?"

"Sure."

Pierson turned, and then stopped. "You're sure you're all right?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. It's just-," he paused for a moment. "Nothing." Pierson left him to his own devices.

Alone, he thought back to the dream he had had the previous night. What had that man's name been? Kevin. He had screamed it, how could he ever forget?

"Must've been someone close," he said to himself. He rubbed his neck again. The pain was building. Like a demon pressing to be released. He actually felt like his head would explode.

Pierson reemerged from the bushes and lit a fire. Then she turned and saw Darien. "You're being awfully quiet. Hey, if you keep doing that, you're gonna hurt yourself even more. Here, let me see the wound." She walked over to him and examined the base of his skull.

"What's this?" she asked worriedly.

Darien could feel her fingers prodding him, but he couldn't see. "What? What is it, Pierson?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know," she muttered gravely. "Look." She held out her hand. It was covered in a pearly-silver substance.

"Not again," Darien sighed.

"Darien," Pierson demanded, "What do you mean 'not again'? Tell me. Now."

"The other day, when you went to get some firewood, there was this spider, and I guess I'm afraid of them. Anyway, I got scared, and some of this silver stuff started forming on my hand."

"Darien, why didn't you tell me?" she asked breathlessly.

"I dunno. Guess it was kind of embarrassing. You know, a little spider, with unusually large fangs, and ugh." He added a shiver for effect.

Pierson sighed. "Darien, this is serious. I've never seen anything like this before. I- I-." Words fled her mind.

Darien took her hand. "Pierson, I, um, I wanna thank you. For everything you've done. It's more than anyone could ask." He raised his hand and touched her cheek.

"Oh, your hand is cold," she commented. "No, I mean really cold." She pushed his hand away and gasped. "What's happening?"

Darien jerked his hand back and stared at it. The strange silver liquid oozed down his arm in rivulets. He wiped it away, but still it flowed. As his fear grew, the liquid spread down his shirt, up onto his face, engulfing his entire body.

Then he was gone. Pierson looked around, frightened. She swallowed hard.

"D-Darien?" she called shakily.

"I'm here. I think. Um, what just happened?" He was just as confused as she was.

"You mean you don't know?"

"Let's see. I touched you and then disappeared. I'm a little fuzzy on the details, yeah." His voice was rising.

"Ok, um, let's just, let's just calm down and think. Uh, first, where are you? We'll work from there."

"You stay where you are, and I'll come to you." After a moment, Pierson felt a cold touch on her shoulder.

"Maybe, maybe if you relax, then you'll come back."

"What?"

"I don't know, just try. I mean, when you got scared, you disappeared; maybe if you relax, you'll come back."

She heard him sigh. "Ok," she said calmly, "Now take a deep breath, and focus on a peaceful scene."

"Easier said than done," she heard him say. But after a few moments, she turned her head and saw Darien emerge from nothingness. Small silver flakes fell from his body and floated to the ground noiselessly.

"It worked!" she exclaimed; however, as soon as he was in view, Darien fell to the ground.

Pierson quickly knelt down and cradled his head in her arms. "Darien?! Darien, say something," His eyes fluttered open, and she gasped in horror. "Darien, what happened to your eyes?"

"Aw, I'm fine," he chuckled slyly and pushed himself up from the ground. "In fact, I feel better now than I've felt in a long time."

Pierson took a few steps back. "Darien, you're starting to scare me. Stay back." She held her arm out in an effort to keep him away.

"Well, why don't you come over here and stop me?" He lunged at Pierson, who clumsily fell out of his reach, then she jumped up and ran from him. Darien chased after her.

* * * * * * * *

"I see him!" Hobbes yelled, trying to be heard over the roar of the helicopter's engine. He pointed to two figures below them and handed Claire the binoculars. The helicopter quickly descended towards Darien and Pierson.

"I've got to get him his shot," the Keeper said. "He's probably reached quicksilver madness by now."

"Yeah, well, serves him right, running off without his partner."

"Hobbes," she sighed, "Darien didn't abandon you, he was kidnaped!"

"Whatever."

Before the skids even touched the ground, both Hobbes and the Keeper jumped out to chase down Darien, who by now had caught Pierson and was contemplating crushing her skull.

"Darien, stop!" Hobbes tackled him while Claire quickly administered the counteragent. They pulled his limp body off of Pierson, freeing her.

"You must forgive us; Mr. Fawkes here isn't feeling quite himself today," Claire explained to Pierson.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that. Will he be all right?"

"Who, Fawkes? He'll be fine," Hobbes assured her.

"Heh, yeah, that said, what exactly is wrong with him?" Pierson demanded.

"Uh, wh-what do you mean?" Hobbes stammered.

"What do I mean? I mean, one minute, he's fine, the next he's invisible, next he's a raging psychopath!"

"You saw Darien go invisible?" the Keeper asked. Pierson nodded.

"'Scuse me, but no, you did NOT see Fawkes go see-through, a'right, Miss, Miss-."

"McBryde. Pierson McBryde."

"McBryde, then, but if you go blabbin' about this back to your little army pals, then my boss'll make me pay. And if he makes me pay, then I'll make you pay. And believe me-."

"All right, Hobbes, I think that's quite enough threats for today."

"Hey," Pierson interjected, "I'm not gonna say anything if it'll hurt Darien."

"Course you won't. Cause you know I'll be around, ready to kick-."

"Hobbes! That's enough! Let's just get Ms. McBryde back to the army convoy." Claire escorted Pierson to the helicopter, leaving Hobbes to carry his unconscious partner.

"Chicks," he muttered under his breath.

* * * * * * * *

"Darien?" Claire called. She gently sponged his forehead, awaiting a response.

"Oh," he murmured, then his eyes fluttered open. "Where am I?" He sat up in the chair he had been resting in.

"Shh, Darien, now lay back. You're back at the compound outside of Kumta," she said calmly. "Do you remember anything?"

"Kinda, where's Pierson?"

"Ms. McBryde is back with her squadron, safe and sound," she assured him.

Darien sighed and closed his eyes. "Does she know?" he asked tentatively.

"Not everything, but, yes, she knows most of it."

Darien sat up and jumped off the seat and began to walk out of the room.

"Are you all right, Darien?" the Keeper asked.

"I will be."

* * * * * * * *

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