Vivian offered a tired smile when Darien slid into the booth across from her. "Thanks for coming, Darien. I'm really sorry about what time it is."

Darien waved her off with a slight smile. He was awake now, he could let it slide. "No problem. You said it was important."

"I ordered you some coffee." She hesitated, looking suddenly uncomfortable. "Look, I have to talk to you about Bobby."

Darien sat up abruptly. Jesus, he should have guessed. "Is he following you again? No wonder he was up so late. Damn it, Viv, I'm sorry. I can try talking to him, but--"

"Darien. That's not it. He's not following me. In fact, he's been very good about staying away since the wedding." She smiled somewhat sadly, but the expression was short-lived. "Have you talked to him tonight?"

Darien nodded, pausing as a waitress dropped two mugs of coffee in front of them and sauntered off. "Yeah. Told me to make sure my door was locked, then he just hung up on me."

"Right before I called?"

Darien nodded again, sipping the hot coffee. He grimaced and reached for the sugar. "So what's the deal?"

"Darien…" She ignored her drink, sitting back thoughtfully, as if unsure of how to phrase what she wanted to say. "I think Bobby trusts you. I told him to find someone else he could call, someone besides me, and he called you. That's a big step for him, and I'm not quite sure you can understand that."

"Yeah. I know Bobby. I know he doesn't trust anyone. But it's not like he was confiding in me or anything. Just told me to lock my door."

She nodded slightly. "I don't suppose you took him very seriously."

"At five in the morning? The guy's a nutcase, calling like that. What am I supposed to--"

Vivian held up a hand suddenly, her gaze going over Darien's shoulder. "Do you know that man?"

Darien glanced back. A dark-haired guy about fifty years old was reading a paper in the booth behind them. He turned back and shook his head. "No. Should I?"

She frowned. "He came in right after you. He's been watching you the entire time you've been sitting here."

Darien tensed. His mind immediately started racing.

Someone from the Agency? Maybe they had watchers keeping an eye on Darien during late-night trips like this.

Somebody from the case he and Bobby were working on now? Darien knew the guys they were up against were big-time, and Bobby kept reminding him how serious the trouble could be if they were discovered. What if they already had been? What if this guys was following him around?

Jesus, it could be from any of their cases. The FBI was still fighting to prove the Agency had an invisible agent. What if they were on to him? What if it was Luke Lawson? What if the guy had been sent by Arnaud?

He could taste rising panic, and his stomach was clenching in worry. "Uh…look, maybe I should go."

Vivian shook her head. "Darien, he was there before I got here."

Darien blinked. "What?"

"That man was here before you. And he hasn't looked up from the paper once."

Darien shook his head slowly, his mind sluggishly aborting the panic attack. "What…why…why would you tell me…?"

"You got pretty nervous, right? I figured, since you and Bobby work together, you have to have a few of your own secrets. Something that would make being followed scary for you."

Darien's mouth dropped open. "What kind of weird game are you playing?"

She smiled sadly. "It's no game. You think Bobby's a nutcase. You don't understand how he feels. Darien, I'm being serious here. The way you felt when I pointed that man out…that's the way Bobby feels every single hour of the day."

Darien shook his head, still not quite following.

"He's tried explaining it to me before, but I never understood. I figured it out on my own one night, when he woke me up saying he'd heard some noise." She sat back, lost in the memory. "He left me in bed alone while he went prowling around the house, and I had visions of burglars or killers, someone from one of his cases, ax-wielding psychopaths…" She shrugged. "It's an awful feeling, isn't it? Tensing up, expecting something or someone to jump out and kill you any minute. When Bobby came back to bed finally, I could see on his face that he felt the same panic I did. And I realized that I see that look on his face a lot. I had just not put together how serious it was."

Darien studied her, staying quiet. He was starting to put together what she meant by that little stunt.

"I used to think he liked being on guard twenty-four hours a day," she continued. "I thought maybe it was a macho thing. Maybe he felt good keeping me safe every minute. But there's nothing good about how he feels. He drives himself to panic sometimes. Did you realize that? Bobby makes himself miserable. He is miserable," she stressed. "I would doubt he's had one peaceful day in his life."

Darien nodded. "Alright, I see what you're saying here. But I--"

"Do you?" She shook her head. "I don't think you do. People make fun of him because he's taking meds, but they don't know the half of it. Lithium's the least of his problems. He's on anti-anxiety medication, anti-psychotics when it gets really bad. He has to take pills for ulcers he's gotten worrying himself sick."

She met his eyes, sincere and solemn. "Bobby has a lot of pride, Darien, and he knows how other people talk about him. Do you honestly think he would have called you this late, knowing how you would probably end up making fun of him later, if he wasn't scared to death something was going to happen to you?"

That hit home. Darien breathed in slowly, thinking about it. He gave Bobby hell for his paranoid little rants. He laughed at him, called him those stupid names. And Bobby did have a hell of a lot of pride. He normally wouldn't open himself up for ridicule that way. Yet he had.

Vivian smiled slightly at the understanding she must have seen in his eyes. "I told him he needed to trust someone else, and he called you. He wants to trust you, Darien. I don't envy you -- it's a hard job to be saddled with. He called me tonight, and he was panicking. He was almost in tears, because he couldn't make those thoughts and doubts and worries stop. He says he hasn't slept in a couple of days."

"Jesus," Darien said quietly, guilt beginning to eat away at him. Why hadn't he realized Bobby needed real help?

"It happens more times than it should. He has to swallow his pride to call me. He only does when it's out of his control to battle his demons by himself. Still, I hear from him once or twice a month."

Darien frowned down at the rapidly cooling brown liquid in front of him. Well, that did it. He felt like absolute crap. Bobby was supposedly his partner and his friend. Bobby made sure Darien was safe -- he watched out for him, no matter what. Made sure he was always on time for his shots. Took care of him those times Darien didn't make it in time. Bobby made sure the red-eyed demon reached the one thing they needed to free Darien from his own body.

Darien hadn't once stopped to think that Bobby could maybe use some help of his own. Not like Bobby ever asked for help…

But no. He wouldn't. He had a lot of pride, like Viv said.

Darien realized that with a sinking feeling. That meant if Viv was right, and Bobby had been calling him to see if he could trust his problems to Darien, than Darien had blown it. Big time.

He slid out of the booth. "I gotta go. Thanks for the coffee."

She didn't seem to mind being abandoned so abruptly. "Remember, he's got alarms everywhere in that place."

Darien smiled slightly at her perceptiveness about where he was headed. "I'll knock, don't worry."

****

He knocked. Loudly. Repeatedly. So much that he was surprised none of the neighbors opened the door and threw a knife at his back.

When Bobby finally opened the door, it was just a tiny crack. "Who's there?"

Darien dropped his aching fist with a sigh. "It's me, Hobbes."

The door slid open another few inches, and a glassy-looking Bobby Hobbes peered out at him. "Fawkes? Whaddaya want?"

"Can I come in? For just a minute?"

Bobby's eyes narrowed as they studied him, but he shrugged and stepped back, letting the door open halfway.

Darien slid through into the apartment, and Bobby shut the door and locked it behind him.

"What's wrong?"

Darien turned back to his partner, and took in the pajama bottoms and bare feet, and the gun Bobby held loosely in one hand. Some sarcastic little Dirty Harry joke rose to his lips, but thankfully he repressed it. "You called me. I got worried about you."

"Worried?" Bobby smirked, but his heart obviously wasn't in it. He moved past Darien and into his bedroom.

Darien trailed after him and watched him drop the gun on the table right beside his head. "Yeah. Worried. Are you okay?"

"Peachy."

Darien frowned and came in, studying his partner under the bedroom light. "One more time with feeling," he replied blandly.

Bobby rolled his eyes and dropped to sit on the bed.

Darien couldn't help but see that there was a strange gloss over Bobby's eyes, a look he'd never seen before. "Bobby? Are you…"

Bobby blinked and turned to him. "Sorry, kid. I'm a little spaced out. Took some…medicine…"

He was a step away from falling on his back and into unconsciousness, Darien realized.

All the words he was planning to say flew out the window. Darien could see the bags under Bobby's eyes, the exhaustion on his face. He could tell Bobby was holding himself up through sheer willpower, and that overcame any need to ask questions or apologize.

"Why don't you go to sleep, Bobby?"

Bobby crooked a lopsided smile at him. "I'm not that rude a host."

Darien didn't return the grin. "Go to sleep, Hobbes. I'll watch out for you."

Bobby shook his head instantly.

But Darien moved faster, going to his partner and gripping his shoulders firmly. Pushing him back and over, so he was resting on the pillow, Darien stood over him. "Bobby. Sleep. Now."

Being flat on his back obviously wasn't helping his fight to stay awake. Whatever pills Bobby was taking, they had to be powerful. "Fawkes…go'way."

"Not tonight, Bobby. I'm gonna hang out here, make sure you're safe."

Bobby's eyes opened at that, and he looked up at his partner with an unreadable gleam in his eyes. "Darien…don't…"

"Jesus, you're a stubborn guy. Sleep, Bobby. Remember what that is? It's when you shut your eyes and let the nice little pills work their magic." Darien regretted his sarcasm instantly.

But apparently it comforted Bobby a little more than the strange concern Darien had never shown before. "Smart ass," he mumbled, his eyes shutting heavily.

Darien relaxed at that.

"Dar…ien…"

He moved closer to the bed, dropping to sit beside his nearly comatose partner. "Yeah?"

"Door…make sure…" Bobby was out before he could finish.

Darien put it together, though, and stood up. Going out into the living room, he checked the front door obediently, making sure it was locked. He glanced over at the alarm system. It was off, but he had no idea how to turn it on, so he left it. The number of locks on Bobby's door would keep them safe if any of Bobby's unseeable enemies came calling.

He moved back to the bedroom and shut the door behind him. He took in the bolt attached to the bedroom door with a slight smile. He shrugged to himself and slid the bolt, locking them into the room.

Finally he moved in, dropping down on the foot of Bobby's bed and scooting over until he was sitting with his back against the wall. He glanced around the dim room, noting that there were no windows, one doorless closet, and that was about it. The dresser and small little bookcase, like the bed, were flush against the walls.

Jesus. Viv wasn't kidding. This guy was seriously paranoid.

And now that he stopped to think about it, it couldn't be a fun way to live. Whatever it was that made Bobby think he had to protect himself so thoroughly, it had to keep him up nights and make him almost nuts with worry.

Shit. Ulcers and anti-psychotics at night, and Darien's stupid jokes during the day. No wonder Bobby seemed so bitter.

Still, if Darien's life the last year had taught him anything, it was that it was never too late to reform. He could cut out the jokes and make an effort to watch Bobby's back, help him feel safe.

It was time to start acting like this guy's partner, and not just the person Bobby was supposed to be babysitting. Hell, he was gonna be with the Agency for a while, that was painfully clear. Might as well start doing what he could to make it better for himself. Making it better for Bobby was a good place to start.

****

Darien shuddered awake, his back lodging an immediate and vocal protest over how it had been forced to bend for the last God knew how many hours.

He groaned quietly and stretched, his eyes opening as he wondered why he'd gone to sleep sitting up the night before.

Bobby Hobbes' dark eyes greeted him immediately, and Darien remembered why.

"Fawkes."

Darien tried to hide his discomfort as he stretched. "Hobbes."

Bobby was sitting on the bed, fully dressed, watching him. "Figured I was just having some messed-up dream last night," he mentioned conversationally.

"Nope," Darien chirped in response, sliding to the edge of the bed. "You were actually blessed by my presence. Feel the rush."

Bobby didn't smile. He didn't even smirk. He just watched Darien. "Wanna tell me why?"

Darien shrugged. "You called. You sounded kinda off-kilter. And I'm your partner. It's my job to watch your back."

Bobby didn't answer, waiting.

Darien realized what he was waiting for a moment later. "No jokes, Bobby. I'm too tired. I also feel kind of like a piece of crap for not realizing how much this kind of thing bothered you. So if you want jokes, from now on go to Eberts. If you need someone to watch your back and help you sleep, you call me. Got it?"

Bobby searched his eyes for a long moment, quiet. "You…uh. You got any idea what you're saying, Fawkes?"

Darien nodded, keeping his voice light. "Sure. And you know, my nights are really too boring anyway. I go to sleep, I wake up the next morning. It's boring. Lacks a certain government-agent edge, don't you think? I need to get shaken up every now and then."

"I get…" Bobby shook his head, turning away for the first time. "I get kinda nuts sometimes. You really want to put up with it?"

"Hobbes, I like putting up with you. It's fun."

Hobbes frowned. "It wouldn't always be."

Darien heard his solemnity and his own grin faded. He'd been trying to keep the air light to keep either of them from feeling too awkward. But Bobby obviously needed a minute of seriousness. "I know that. I also know it's never any fun for you. But I'm serious. Next time you need me, call. You know you can trust me, right?"

Bobby tensed. His mouth opened then shut uncertainly.

Darien realized how hard a question that would be for him to answer, so he let it drop. "Well, you can start depending on me. I'm your friend. You don't need to be worrying about stuff alone when you got friends who can worry with you."

Bobby nodded slowly. He stood and went to the door of the bedroom. "Well, friend, we have to be at work in about a half an hour. If you want to use my shower you'd better hurry."

Darien groaned and stood up, ignoring the protests from his back. He dragged his feet to the door and past Bobby, scratching his back with a yawn.

"Hey, Fawkes?"

He glanced back. "Wha?" he asked through the jaw-cracking yawn.

Bobby smiled faintly at the sight he must have made. "I do," he said simply. "I trust you."

Darien grinned, but turned around and kept heading for the bathroom before things could get too mushy and awkward between them.

Guy named Elbert Hubbard once said, "A friend is one who knows you and loves you just the same." It's a nice, mushy little sentiment. A keychain slogan, like something Claire would say.

But that doesn't mean it's not true. Me and Bobby were partners, and I liked the guy. Most of the time. But we never really started feeling like friends until that day, when I started to genuinely get to know what made him tick.