FanFiction_PainBobbysPOV

Spoilers: Not a single one
Warnings: There are some owwies here, but i don't think I was 'too'
graphic. Just be advised.
Notes: All right a little explaining needs to be done. This is part three
in a number of little snippets I'm calling Pain as I'm sure you will
understand if you ready this. I don't think I go 'too' graphic, but be
careful there are owwies in this. The first was from Darien's POV and the
second was from Bobby's. I can't tell you what number the last posts were
(sorry), but if you want the other two parts just e-mail me and I'll be
happy to send them your way. As always thanks to my beta. <Banshee waves
at nightshade> ** Nightshade Waves right back "Your Welcome =0)**

"Darien?"

The name slips off my tongue easily as I skulk though the dimly lit
hallway. There are only three more doors to try down here and even that
seems like to many. Time is short. Even hoping for the best I know that
the Fawkes' time is short. So short I have a shot with me just in case.

I move to the closest door, standing just off to one side. My gun is heavy
in my hand as I steady myself to open the door and check out the room.
Anything could be in there. My senses tell me its empty, my paranoia is
betting on about ten heavily armed goons, reality is probably somewhere
in-between. Not letting my mind work up any other alternatives, I open the
door quickly, my body crouched low to make the smallest target possible
while my gun sweeps over the room.

Empty.

There is nothing but dust and cobwebs and a few bits of junk not really big
enough to hide a mouse. I feel the breath I was holding slowly slide out.
Making a quick but thorough search of the small room by sight just in case,
I feel myself relax knowing that this room is secure. I calm slightly but
adrenaline is still running high though my system keeping my senses at
their peak. I'm not out of this yet.

Returning to the hallway I get ready to try the next door when I hear a
sound. Even though it has been utterly silent down here, the sound is
muffled enough that I can't tell exactly what it was. Was it a person
speaking or maybe a gun cocking. Hell, it could have been a mouse
scurrying across the floor for all I know. The one thing I am sure of is
it came from the farthest door.

Bypassing the second door, I head for the one at the end of the hall. I
can feel the pressure building up again in my stomach, like a snake turning
and twisting in upon it's self. Pulling up next to the door I pause for a
moment and listen. Shifting my
position to get a better angle, I make my way to the door. A floor board
squeaks under my foot in protest. I freeze. My heart beat doubles its
already fast past as I realize I just might have given away my position to
some unknown enemy.

I'm just about ready to bust though the door shooting when I hear it. It's
weak and muffled by the door, but I hear it just the same. Entering the
room quickly, gun extended, I'm prepared for anything.

The sight that greets me is both good and bad. I have found him. Not only
that he is alone but apparently alive. Unfortunately that is where the
good news ends. Shutting the door behind me, I pull at a string dangling
from a naked light bulb in the center of the room as I make my way over to
my partner.

With just a glance, I know it's bad. It might have been better if I had
left the light off. His face looks like someone took a baseball bat to it.
It's all swollen, his eyes, the right side of his face. Hell, all of his
face looks swollen, bloated, and painful. There are bruises too, of
course, dark and sickly, like some kind of black or purple ink that moves
just under the skin. I swear that even as I pause to look at it, it
spreads becoming more vivid as it goes.

Taking in the rest of him I notice the open shirt and the equally bruised
torso. Even though I can't see anything radically out of place I'm sure
that 'something' down there is broken. No one can take a beating like this
and not have something broken up inside.

There is more then just bruising though. There are cuts, some shallow and
some deeper. They're all over, some on his throat, some on his chest, and
some on his arms. Each and every one oozing blood that makes bright red
snakes over dark bruised skin.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter under my breath as I kneel down at Fawkes' side.
My hands reaching out to touch him, to help him, but stopping short as I
try to decide where I can touch him without hurting him.

He must have heard me talk because the swollen face turns to me while the
body flinches away. I know there is no way he could have seen me with his
eyes swollen shut like that. Split and bleeding lips open and a rusty
voice questions, "Bobby?"

"Yeah, kid, it's me. You're going to be fine," I reply softly.

I decided first things first and I try to see the kids' wrist. Gently
taking his arm I lift and rotate it so that I can see the tattooed serpent.
A whimper escapes his chapped lips at the pain this small movement causes
and I wince, though I know this is necessary.

Rubbing some drying blood aside I'm surprised to see the snake is only one
away from completely red. I glance at Darien's face then back at the
monitor. The fact that he is in one away from QSM and only sitting there,
no ranting, no raving says a lot about the pain his injuries are causing
him.

Setting down my gun just outside a puddle of blood on the floor, I reach
into my inner jacket pocket for the shot of counteragent I brought with me
for just this reason. Pulling the syringe out of its protective case, I
pull off the cap and debate for a moment whether it should go in the arm or
the neck. Seeing movement out of the corner of my eye I look and watch as
the last segmented goes red.

The choice out of my hands, I go for the neck easily and with more
familiarity then I'm really comfortable with. Sliding the long needle into
the vane, I depress the plunger. I watch as my partners' body arches, his
mouth opening, jaw working, as the counter agent takes effect. I think I
hear what sound like my name, badly garbled, pass his lips just before his
body goes slack and he passes out.

Even though I know that he is unconscious and is probably better off for
it, I can't help calling out to him.

"Darien?"