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Disclaimer: Don’t own them.
Author’s Note: Oh, wow…it’s been a while since I updated this one! Well…let’s see. First off, I no longer hate Hobbes. In fact, he’s my third favorite character. J Secondly, this is dedicated to my good friend Whitefire because she has been harping on me to write another chapter to this for what seems like years. Third, someone e-mailed me and suggested a sequel with these characters but maybe some new ones too like Scully and Mulder…though I’d probably just dump in Krycek because I love him. Let me know what you guys think, and if you have any suggestions for characters. And lastly…if anyone who reads this wants a beta reader or someone to bounce ideas off, I’d be happy to help! So…on with the much anticipated ::snicker:: chapter to “Gang’s All Here”.
The Gang's All Here
by Ice Queen1
“He gonna be okay?” Darien asked, leaning back against the metal casing supporting several of Claire’s specimens.
“Well Darien, I’m not sure. He should be able to make a full recovery, but it’s going to be awhile,” Claire replied, finishing wrapping the white plaster around Cade’s left wrist.
“Well…what’s the problem then? If he can make a recovery, then shouldn’t your answer be, ‘Why of course Darien, he’ll be just peachy after we get him out of this hell hole we call home’?” Darien pressed, uncrossing his arms as he stood up straight.
Jarod answered before the Keeper could. “She means he’ll probably be executed before he gets a chance to fully heal.”
“Wait a minute…didn’t you guys see him back there? Can you actually give someone the death penalty if you have one: no proof he killed anyone, and two: he seems to be a mental case?” Michael asked from the chair next to Foster’s head. The unconscious man had yet to show any signs of waking from the sedative.
Jarod thought for a moment. “They have no proof of any murders?”
“They did find him with his wife’s body…” Michael said uncomfortably.
“Did the fingerprints on her body match his?” Jarod asked, his eyes lighting up as he began to work the facts over in his mind.
“They never said,” Hobbes spoke up for the first time in the conversation.
“If we can dig up the files and prove that his fingerprints don’t match up with the one’s around his wife’s neck, then we should be able to get a reexamination of the case file. If we do that, then the files would be open to the public and we can see just how many people he’s supposedly killed. If the numbers don’t match, we can get him of the death sentence. He’ll probably still have to go to jail, but it’ll probably just be the psychiatric ward,” Jarod explained in a rush, talk animatedly with his hands as he paced back and forth in the small basement laboratory.
“Just the psychiatric ward?” Darien repeated. “That anything like the white room?”
“Only the isolation and as long as Mr. Foster behaves and accepts treatment,” Jarod answered absently.
“And we have reason to believe I’ll do this because…?” a raspy voice interrupted.
The three men jumped at the roughness of the voice and glanced down at Cade who was blearily blinking his gray eyes open.
“Mr. Foster, it’s nice to see you awake. You should be aware that you are restrained, so please, be careful of your left hand. You broke it and the cast has just finished drying. You also have a mild concussion. How do you feel?” Claire explained gently.
“Like shit, what do you think? Back to my original question: what makes you think I will cooperate to get a life sentence in a wacko shack?” Cade demanded.
Darien took note that the convict immediately stiffened when he realized that he was strapped down to the examination chair.
“Why wouldn’t you?” Hobbes countered.
“Because I’m not crazy, I have things to do, and in general, I don’t like being medicated twenty-four seven, that’s why,” Cade snapped irritably.
“You wouldn’t be sedated all the time, it’s only if you’re violent,” Michael protested.
“You know, you don’t catch on very quick do you? What in the HELL would you call me? Trust me when I say that if I’m put in a white room I will bash my way out and take down anyone that stops me!” Cade shouted, jerking his upper half forwards until he was within a hair’s breath of Michael’s face. “Get the picture?”
“Yeah,” Michael replied quickly before scooting backwards on his chair.
“Good,” Cade snapped, and sat back against the chair again.
“Did you kill those people?” Darien demanded suddenly.
“No.”
“None of them?”
“None of them.”
“Would you ever kill anyone?”
“If they threatened my friends, yes. If they stood in my way, no.”
“What way?”
“Never mind,” Cade grumbled. “I’m not explaining it to you.”
“Why not?” Jarod asked, intrigued by Foster’ s answers.
“Because I don’t trust you, and if you ask why, I’m going to scream…” Cade replied.
Hobbes snickered at that.
“And you! You, I just might attack when I get out of this mess,” Cade threatened, though he seemed to be smiling around his words.
“But why would the press say you killed all those people if you didn’t?” Claire asked, puzzled.
“Why does the press do anything? For publicity. They figured since I was a wife killer, supposedly psychotic and on the run, they could blame any unsolved murder cases on me and it wouldn’t matter,” Cade muttered, flexing his fingers on his left hand, checking to see that they still worked.
“I can understand that…sort of,” Darien replied sympathetically. “When I was put in prison, it was for saving some old guy’s life.”
“Ah, so you’re that guy that was accused of molesting an elderly guy after breaking into his house. The net had a field day with that,” Cade replied, smirking as he recalled the find memory.
“Yeah, yeah…a good time was had by all. Kiss my ass,” Darien grumbled.
“I’d rather not.”
“You too good to kiss my ass?” Darien joked.
“No, I’m afraid I could not do your ass justice if I kissed it…and oh God, does that sound wrong!” Cade muttered, scrunching up his face in disgust. “Bleck…I’ll be having nightmare for years.”
The room erupted into nervous laughter before finally dying down.
“Nervous tension,” Jarod supplied, grinning.
“Nervous? Who says I’m nervous? I mean, I’m only about to packaged off to prison to die, what’s so big about that?” Cade snapped irritably, back to his cantankerous mood.
Darien snapped his fingers. “I have got just the thing for you…one sec while I get it Okayed…” Darien took his arm and steered Claire away from the group and muttered something so quietly the others couldn’t hear him. Claire seemed somewhat distraught at whatever Darien was saying, but seemed to calm a few moments later. She smiled and quickly hurried out of the room, the doors making a soft whoosh when they opened and closed behind her.
“What was that about, partner?” Hobbes asked curiously.
“That, my friend, was a diversion in its finest form.” Darien looked somberly at Cade. “You realize that if you pull something on me, I will be forced to kill you, right?”
Cade raised on eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Letting you out. Not exactly setting you loose, just giving you one last shot at being outside…should you accidentally slip my field of vision, well…that can’t be helped, can it?” Darien replied, undoing the straps around Cade’s arms and legs.
Cade immediately rolled off the chair in case the lanky federal agent changed his mind. “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously, spacing himself away from the others.
“Come on, we’re getting out of here, give me your arm,” Darien said, reaching out with two fingers. Cade immediately stepped back.
“Why should I trust you?” Cade demanded.
“Because you haven’t got a choice. The Fat man isn’t going to listen to anything you’ve got to say, and you’ll go to the electric chair without a second thought if you stay here. On the other hand, you could give me your arm and we can walk out of here.”
“Why do you believe me when no one else will?”
“Because I’m stupid that way, all right? Now hurry up, or Claire’s gonna figure out what I’m doing and come back before we’ve left,” Darien replied. “Now give me your arm.”
Cautiously, Cade stuck his good arm out, ready to snatch it back if it was a trick. Darien clamped onto his wrist and immediately the frigid Quicksilver began to coat Foster’s arm, sliding across his skin in a shimmering sheet of liquid before disappearing entirely.
“What do you think?” Darien said proudly, before quicksilvering himself.
There was a pause, and then “Oh God, it’s freezing! But so cool…”
“We have places to go, things to do…” the invisible man said, and the doors whooshed open again and the four remaining men could hear footsteps heading in separate directions and Darien’s voice echoing, “No, not that way…”
The steps soon faded in the distance as Darien and Cade made their way to the nearest exit.
“Does anyone know what just happened there?” Hobbes asked.
“No,” Jarod replied.
“Nope.” Michael shrugged.
“This can’t be good,” Hobbes muttered, though he smirked when he said it.
“No,” Jarod replied.
“Nope,” said Michael.
“Loads of help you guys are.”
“Yep,” they chorused.
Author’s Note: Oh, wow…it’s been a while since I updated this one! Well…let’s see. First off, I no longer hate Hobbes. In fact, he’s my third favorite character. J Secondly, this is dedicated to my good friend Whitefire because she has been harping on me to write another chapter to this for what seems like years. Third, someone e-mailed me and suggested a sequel with these characters but maybe some new ones too like Scully and Mulder…though I’d probably just dump in Krycek because I love him. Let me know what you guys think, and if you have any suggestions for characters. And lastly…if anyone who reads this wants a beta reader or someone to bounce ideas off, I’d be happy to help! So…on with the much anticipated ::snicker:: chapter to “Gang’s All Here”.
by Ice Queen1
“He gonna be okay?” Darien asked, leaning back against the metal casing supporting several of Claire’s specimens.
“Well Darien, I’m not sure. He should be able to make a full recovery, but it’s going to be awhile,” Claire replied, finishing wrapping the white plaster around Cade’s left wrist.
“Well…what’s the problem then? If he can make a recovery, then shouldn’t your answer be, ‘Why of course Darien, he’ll be just peachy after we get him out of this hell hole we call home’?” Darien pressed, uncrossing his arms as he stood up straight.
Jarod answered before the Keeper could. “She means he’ll probably be executed before he gets a chance to fully heal.”
“Wait a minute…didn’t you guys see him back there? Can you actually give someone the death penalty if you have one: no proof he killed anyone, and two: he seems to be a mental case?” Michael asked from the chair next to Foster’s head. The unconscious man had yet to show any signs of waking from the sedative.
Jarod thought for a moment. “They have no proof of any murders?”
“They did find him with his wife’s body…” Michael said uncomfortably.
“Did the fingerprints on her body match his?” Jarod asked, his eyes lighting up as he began to work the facts over in his mind.
“They never said,” Hobbes spoke up for the first time in the conversation.
“If we can dig up the files and prove that his fingerprints don’t match up with the one’s around his wife’s neck, then we should be able to get a reexamination of the case file. If we do that, then the files would be open to the public and we can see just how many people he’s supposedly killed. If the numbers don’t match, we can get him of the death sentence. He’ll probably still have to go to jail, but it’ll probably just be the psychiatric ward,” Jarod explained in a rush, talk animatedly with his hands as he paced back and forth in the small basement laboratory.
“Just the psychiatric ward?” Darien repeated. “That anything like the white room?”
“Only the isolation and as long as Mr. Foster behaves and accepts treatment,” Jarod answered absently.
“And we have reason to believe I’ll do this because…?” a raspy voice interrupted.
The three men jumped at the roughness of the voice and glanced down at Cade who was blearily blinking his gray eyes open.
“Mr. Foster, it’s nice to see you awake. You should be aware that you are restrained, so please, be careful of your left hand. You broke it and the cast has just finished drying. You also have a mild concussion. How do you feel?” Claire explained gently.
“Like shit, what do you think? Back to my original question: what makes you think I will cooperate to get a life sentence in a wacko shack?” Cade demanded.
Darien took note that the convict immediately stiffened when he realized that he was strapped down to the examination chair.
“Why wouldn’t you?” Hobbes countered.
“Because I’m not crazy, I have things to do, and in general, I don’t like being medicated twenty-four seven, that’s why,” Cade snapped irritably.
“You wouldn’t be sedated all the time, it’s only if you’re violent,” Michael protested.
“You know, you don’t catch on very quick do you? What in the HELL would you call me? Trust me when I say that if I’m put in a white room I will bash my way out and take down anyone that stops me!” Cade shouted, jerking his upper half forwards until he was within a hair’s breath of Michael’s face. “Get the picture?”
“Yeah,” Michael replied quickly before scooting backwards on his chair.
“Good,” Cade snapped, and sat back against the chair again.
“Did you kill those people?” Darien demanded suddenly.
“No.”
“None of them?”
“None of them.”
“Would you ever kill anyone?”
“If they threatened my friends, yes. If they stood in my way, no.”
“What way?”
“Never mind,” Cade grumbled. “I’m not explaining it to you.”
“Why not?” Jarod asked, intrigued by Foster’ s answers.
“Because I don’t trust you, and if you ask why, I’m going to scream…” Cade replied.
Hobbes snickered at that.
“And you! You, I just might attack when I get out of this mess,” Cade threatened, though he seemed to be smiling around his words.
“But why would the press say you killed all those people if you didn’t?” Claire asked, puzzled.
“Why does the press do anything? For publicity. They figured since I was a wife killer, supposedly psychotic and on the run, they could blame any unsolved murder cases on me and it wouldn’t matter,” Cade muttered, flexing his fingers on his left hand, checking to see that they still worked.
“I can understand that…sort of,” Darien replied sympathetically. “When I was put in prison, it was for saving some old guy’s life.”
“Ah, so you’re that guy that was accused of molesting an elderly guy after breaking into his house. The net had a field day with that,” Cade replied, smirking as he recalled the find memory.
“Yeah, yeah…a good time was had by all. Kiss my ass,” Darien grumbled.
“I’d rather not.”
“You too good to kiss my ass?” Darien joked.
“No, I’m afraid I could not do your ass justice if I kissed it…and oh God, does that sound wrong!” Cade muttered, scrunching up his face in disgust. “Bleck…I’ll be having nightmare for years.”
The room erupted into nervous laughter before finally dying down.
“Nervous tension,” Jarod supplied, grinning.
“Nervous? Who says I’m nervous? I mean, I’m only about to packaged off to prison to die, what’s so big about that?” Cade snapped irritably, back to his cantankerous mood.
Darien snapped his fingers. “I have got just the thing for you…one sec while I get it Okayed…” Darien took his arm and steered Claire away from the group and muttered something so quietly the others couldn’t hear him. Claire seemed somewhat distraught at whatever Darien was saying, but seemed to calm a few moments later. She smiled and quickly hurried out of the room, the doors making a soft whoosh when they opened and closed behind her.
“What was that about, partner?” Hobbes asked curiously.
“That, my friend, was a diversion in its finest form.” Darien looked somberly at Cade. “You realize that if you pull something on me, I will be forced to kill you, right?”
Cade raised on eyebrow. “What are you doing?”
“Letting you out. Not exactly setting you loose, just giving you one last shot at being outside…should you accidentally slip my field of vision, well…that can’t be helped, can it?” Darien replied, undoing the straps around Cade’s arms and legs.
Cade immediately rolled off the chair in case the lanky federal agent changed his mind. “What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously, spacing himself away from the others.
“Come on, we’re getting out of here, give me your arm,” Darien said, reaching out with two fingers. Cade immediately stepped back.
“Why should I trust you?” Cade demanded.
“Because you haven’t got a choice. The Fat man isn’t going to listen to anything you’ve got to say, and you’ll go to the electric chair without a second thought if you stay here. On the other hand, you could give me your arm and we can walk out of here.”
“Why do you believe me when no one else will?”
“Because I’m stupid that way, all right? Now hurry up, or Claire’s gonna figure out what I’m doing and come back before we’ve left,” Darien replied. “Now give me your arm.”
Cautiously, Cade stuck his good arm out, ready to snatch it back if it was a trick. Darien clamped onto his wrist and immediately the frigid Quicksilver began to coat Foster’s arm, sliding across his skin in a shimmering sheet of liquid before disappearing entirely.
“What do you think?” Darien said proudly, before quicksilvering himself.
There was a pause, and then “Oh God, it’s freezing! But so cool…”
“We have places to go, things to do…” the invisible man said, and the doors whooshed open again and the four remaining men could hear footsteps heading in separate directions and Darien’s voice echoing, “No, not that way…”
The steps soon faded in the distance as Darien and Cade made their way to the nearest exit.
“Does anyone know what just happened there?” Hobbes asked.
“No,” Jarod replied.
“Nope.” Michael shrugged.
“This can’t be good,” Hobbes muttered, though he smirked when he said it.
“No,” Jarod replied.
“Nope,” said Michael.
“Loads of help you guys are.”
“Yep,” they chorused.
