New Fic

Disclaimer: I don't own The Invisible Man
Author's Note: This is written in memory of all who lost their lives during the World Trade Center attack.
Also: Not very happy, written for the purpose of expressing the author's feeling following the attack. Darien POV.

Nothing is Sacred

Everybody had it in for him.

Militant anarchistic conglomerates, international terrorists, Chinese, Russians, and every conceivable governmental agency, but then again that was part of the job.
They didn't specify who would want to kill him when the day began, but every day he knew somebody would. He'd volunteered.
Of course he'd never known what that decision would get him, but at least he'd said, Yes please mess the hell with my life, when he'd agreed to the deal. Being blown up, shot at, beaten the crap out of, it was life.
A strange unique and wild one, but life all the same, he's taken control and decided to lose it.

But they hadn't.

He watched the television set, unspeaking, unblinking, unthinking. They hadn't asked for it, they wenre't volunteers.
Thousands of people all gone, they'd never agreed.
They didn't make the deal with god and science like he had, they'd hadn't said a word.

They weren't secret agents.

Falling, falling, the first tower was gone, life functions cease.
Flat lining it, kicking the bucket, dead as a door nail, thousands of them. Accountants, brokers, secretaries, paper pushers, gone while he watched.

And the earth shook.

He walked the line, they didn't, but that didn't matter anymore.
Accepting the chance and being killed weren't connected anymore.
Anybody, somebody, everybody, nobody, dead or not at the flip of a coin. His danger didn't matter any more, the cross hairs view was blurry.
The country he served, the people he trusted, the people he didn't, friends and enemies, could be grouped together at the target.
No matter what he did nothing could be safe, not after this.


Nothing is sacred.