Title: Smooth Addiction
Author: AriellaGiselle
Rating: R, for graphic death, substance abuse, language, and major angst.
Pairing: Darien/Semi-Borrowed Female Character: Annie
Distribution: My site, Fanfiction.net, IMFanfic, QSArchive, and NeonSilence. Anyone else, just ask.
Spoilers: I don't think there are any.
Summary: Inspired by the songs by Alien Ant Farm and K's Choice. An agent assigned to Darien and Bobby is murdered, and the death takes a major toll on Darien.
Status: WIP
Author's Notes: This is an AU storie. This will *not* end happily. There's my warning. It's violent and painful and depressing. This storie is extremely personal and is painful for me to write, for several reasons.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plot and Annie Li. The Invisible Man belongs to Scifi and Stu Segall. The idea of "Annie" and "Smooth Criminal" belong to Alien Ant Farm and/or Michael Jackson, you choose. "Not an Addict" is the property of K's Choice.
****************************
"Annie, are you OK
Will you tell us that you're OK
There's a sign at the window
That he struck you
A crescendo, Annie
He came into your apartment
He left the bloodstains on the carpet
Then you ran into the bedroom
You were struck down
It was your doom
Annie, are you OK
You OK
Are you OK, Annie
Annie, are you OK
You OK
Are you OK, Annie
Annie, are you OK
You OK
Are you OK, Annie
You've been hit by
You've been struck by
A smooth criminal"
--"Smooth Criminal" by Alien Ant Farm
*************************
Darien sighed sadly as he thought of her. Agent Annie Li. The beautiful Asian agent that Darien had been secretly lusting over.
*She's gone. She's really gone,* he thought. He got up from his place on the couch and retrieved a beer from its cold home in the fridge.
Images of her filled his thoughts. Every memory he had of her played through his mind. He thought for a moment that he was going to cry.
His mind sent him realing back in time to the first time he met her... A day he would never forget, but couldn't bring himself to remember while he was sober.
*****
"Agent Fawkes?" the soft, timid voice came from the door of the office Darien shared with Hobbes.
Fawkes jerked his head up to look at the intruder of his thoughts. He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately floored by her grace and beauty. Her straight black hair hanging loosely around her face, her soft brown eyes, her pale olive skin. He was struck by everything about her at once.
"Agent Fawkes? Are you okay, sir?" she asked, genuinely concerned.
"Um, yeah, call me Darien. Sir seems a bit too formal," he replied, standing and walking around the desk to face her. He was at least eight inches taller than her.
"Okay, Darien," she smiled, letting his name roll off her tongue. "I'm Agent Annie Li. I've been assigned to work with you and Agent Hobbes."
"Really? Well, the Official didn't tell us about a new agent, much less a partner," Darien commented.
"He just got the transfer orders today. He just told me to come down to your office, and talk to you. So, here I am," Annie smiled again. Darien was amazed by the way the very air surrounding her small frame seemed to glimmer and sparkle when she smiled. She made *him* want to smile. No one had made Darien want to smile in a long time.
"Well, here you are. Hobbes should be back in a few. He just went for coffee," he offered.
"Oh, I see."
They stood in such comfortable silence for what seemed like hours. Hobbes entered the small office and stared at the two people standing in his office staring at each other. The tall, lanky one looked like his partner, but something in his eyes was different. Something vital to Darien's survival.
"Ahem," Hobbes cleared his throat. "Got the coffee." He handed one of the cups to Darien, who set it on the desk behind him.
"Thanks, man," Darien paused to point at Annie, "This is Agent Annie Li. She's been assigned to work with us."
"Nice to meet you. Work with us? A new partner? Since when?" Bobby asked, without taking a breath.
"Breathe. Apparently, since now. The 'Fish got the orders today, right, Annie?" Fawkes turned to the petite Asian beauty.
"Yes, Agent Hobbes. I'm transferring from the CIA to keep the proverbial eye on the QS9300 project. I don't want to be here anymore than you want me to be, but I have my orders," she said apologetically.
"Call me Bobby, Annie. Don't worry about it. A fresh face around here is always welcomed," Hobbes offered warmly. He extended his right hand to shake her's. "Well, should I go get some more coffee?"
"No, I don't drink coffee, but thank you anyway," Annie replied.
*****
Darien felt the stinging of tears at the rims of his eyelids. He convinced himself he wasn't going to cry. But he was just lying to himself.
He broke down and cried like the small child he felt creeping into his head. He was scared he wouldn't get over her. He was scared he would never feel the same way again. He was scared of everything.
Darien decided that he couldn't just sit and bawl anymore. He needed air. He needed to be somewhere else.
As he walked toward the gym near his house, his psyche launched him on a trip back to the day he'd found her. In her apartment.
*****
"Annie, you here?" Darien shouted. He'd been knocking for about five minutes. Her second week on the job and she was four hours late. Needless to say, both Darien and Bobby had been worried. So, after the meeting with the Official, they headed to her apartment.
Hobbes checked the knob to see if the door was unlocked. When the door opened without protest, he drew his gun. Darien, as if by a telepathic order from Hobbes, quicksilvered and slipped in. Bobby waited a few moments and followed.
The clean apartment was furnished in a very Spartan manner. The living area was open and visible from the front door. The kitchen, the dining area, the living room.
Darien moved with a cat-like grace years of breaking and entering had afforded him. He gently pushed at the door to her bedroom. The sight he saw made his stomach roll. He shook off the quicksilver and choked back the sobs and the morning's breakfast long enough to shout, "Hobbes!" He made a bee-line to the bathroom, barely making it before he was sick.
"Oh, shit," Bobby said. "Oh, Christ." He pulled the cell phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed 911. He told them that he was a federal agent and that they needed assistance. He dialed the all-too-familiar number for the Keep and told her to come for Darien.
When Darien had recovered, he came to stand by Bobby's side. "Oh, God," he whispered, not hiding his emotions at all now. His voice was think with tears so far unshed. "Did you call... whoever?" he choked out.
"Yeah, come on, kid," Bobby spoke softly, soothingly and placed a gentle, supportive hand on Darien's shoulder.
*****
Darien stopped and drug his arm across his eyes to clear away the evidence of his tears. He resumed his workout.
Punch. Kick. Uppercut.
He whaled on the bag until he was sure it would fall from the ceiling. His knuckles would be bruised in the morning, but what did it matter when he couldn't feel anything, anyway?
The blood wouldn't clear from his vision. It was all he saw. Her limp and beaten body, covered in the dark red blood of death. The cuts, the bruises, the broken bones. All of it added up to nightmares for the ex-thief. He hated whoever did that to her. She was smart and vibrant and full of a grace and a life that Darien wished he had a fraction of.
Darien showered and left the gym. He needed to be somewhere, anywhere, but his home. If he went there, he might not ever come out. His feet seemed to carry him to some undisclosed-to-his-brain locale.
*****
Her funeral was simple, elegant. Like she was. Darien managed to hold back the crying fits he felt like throwing in the middle of the service. He got home and headed for the half-empty bottle of vodka in the freezer.
He drank four glasses of the smooth, burning liquid and sobbed like he had done for Kevin. When he finally managed to drag himself to bed, he dreamed of her blood-stained carpet, of her disshevelled clothing, of her still-bleeding nose, of her hair matted and pasted to the carpet with a few hours of dried blood.
He wasn't sure whether he'd ever loose himself of those haunting spectres. He wasn't sure he wanted to either.
*****
Everyday since then had been the same. Get up, go to work, come home, get plastered, cry, sleep. Darien knew it was a destructive cycle, but nothing made the pain go away better than the vodka as it blazed its way through his system.
Hobbes worried like the mother hen he was becoming. He hated to see Darien destroy his life like that, but there was really nothing he could do about it. Bobby told him that he shouldn't just sit there alone in his apartment all the time. But Darien turned down every one of Bobby's offers of companionship.
When Claire finally confronted Darien about the alcohol, he became defensive and began shouting at her. "You think I'm a fucking alcoholic don't you, Claire? I'm not a drunk! It's just a little release. I'm not an addict!" he justified. She stared in shocked pain as his words cut her like a million little knives determined to hurt her. She watched in helplessness as he stormed out of the Keep, trashing a few carts and tossing things about as he left.
*****
"It's not a habit,
It's cool,
I feel alive.
If you don't have it, you're on the other side.
The deeper you stick it in the vein,
The deeper the thoughts,
There's no more pain.
I'm in heaven,
I'm a God.
I'm everywhere,
I feel so high.
It's not a habit,
It's cool,
I feel alive,
If you don't have it, you're on the other side.
I'm not an addict,
Maybe that's a lie."
--"Not an Addict" by K's Choice
*****
Author: AriellaGiselle
Rating: R, for graphic death, substance abuse, language, and major angst.
Pairing: Darien/Semi-Borrowed Female Character: Annie
Distribution: My site, Fanfiction.net, IMFanfic, QSArchive, and NeonSilence. Anyone else, just ask.
Spoilers: I don't think there are any.
Summary: Inspired by the songs by Alien Ant Farm and K's Choice. An agent assigned to Darien and Bobby is murdered, and the death takes a major toll on Darien.
Status: WIP
Author's Notes: This is an AU storie. This will *not* end happily. There's my warning. It's violent and painful and depressing. This storie is extremely personal and is painful for me to write, for several reasons.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the plot and Annie Li. The Invisible Man belongs to Scifi and Stu Segall. The idea of "Annie" and "Smooth Criminal" belong to Alien Ant Farm and/or Michael Jackson, you choose. "Not an Addict" is the property of K's Choice.
****************************
"Annie, are you OK
Will you tell us that you're OK
There's a sign at the window
That he struck you
A crescendo, Annie
He came into your apartment
He left the bloodstains on the carpet
Then you ran into the bedroom
You were struck down
It was your doom
Annie, are you OK
You OK
Are you OK, Annie
Annie, are you OK
You OK
Are you OK, Annie
Annie, are you OK
You OK
Are you OK, Annie
You've been hit by
You've been struck by
A smooth criminal"
--"Smooth Criminal" by Alien Ant Farm
*************************
Darien sighed sadly as he thought of her. Agent Annie Li. The beautiful Asian agent that Darien had been secretly lusting over.
*She's gone. She's really gone,* he thought. He got up from his place on the couch and retrieved a beer from its cold home in the fridge.
Images of her filled his thoughts. Every memory he had of her played through his mind. He thought for a moment that he was going to cry.
His mind sent him realing back in time to the first time he met her... A day he would never forget, but couldn't bring himself to remember while he was sober.
*****
"Agent Fawkes?" the soft, timid voice came from the door of the office Darien shared with Hobbes.
Fawkes jerked his head up to look at the intruder of his thoughts. He opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately floored by her grace and beauty. Her straight black hair hanging loosely around her face, her soft brown eyes, her pale olive skin. He was struck by everything about her at once.
"Agent Fawkes? Are you okay, sir?" she asked, genuinely concerned.
"Um, yeah, call me Darien. Sir seems a bit too formal," he replied, standing and walking around the desk to face her. He was at least eight inches taller than her.
"Okay, Darien," she smiled, letting his name roll off her tongue. "I'm Agent Annie Li. I've been assigned to work with you and Agent Hobbes."
"Really? Well, the Official didn't tell us about a new agent, much less a partner," Darien commented.
"He just got the transfer orders today. He just told me to come down to your office, and talk to you. So, here I am," Annie smiled again. Darien was amazed by the way the very air surrounding her small frame seemed to glimmer and sparkle when she smiled. She made *him* want to smile. No one had made Darien want to smile in a long time.
"Well, here you are. Hobbes should be back in a few. He just went for coffee," he offered.
"Oh, I see."
They stood in such comfortable silence for what seemed like hours. Hobbes entered the small office and stared at the two people standing in his office staring at each other. The tall, lanky one looked like his partner, but something in his eyes was different. Something vital to Darien's survival.
"Ahem," Hobbes cleared his throat. "Got the coffee." He handed one of the cups to Darien, who set it on the desk behind him.
"Thanks, man," Darien paused to point at Annie, "This is Agent Annie Li. She's been assigned to work with us."
"Nice to meet you. Work with us? A new partner? Since when?" Bobby asked, without taking a breath.
"Breathe. Apparently, since now. The 'Fish got the orders today, right, Annie?" Fawkes turned to the petite Asian beauty.
"Yes, Agent Hobbes. I'm transferring from the CIA to keep the proverbial eye on the QS9300 project. I don't want to be here anymore than you want me to be, but I have my orders," she said apologetically.
"Call me Bobby, Annie. Don't worry about it. A fresh face around here is always welcomed," Hobbes offered warmly. He extended his right hand to shake her's. "Well, should I go get some more coffee?"
"No, I don't drink coffee, but thank you anyway," Annie replied.
*****
Darien felt the stinging of tears at the rims of his eyelids. He convinced himself he wasn't going to cry. But he was just lying to himself.
He broke down and cried like the small child he felt creeping into his head. He was scared he wouldn't get over her. He was scared he would never feel the same way again. He was scared of everything.
Darien decided that he couldn't just sit and bawl anymore. He needed air. He needed to be somewhere else.
As he walked toward the gym near his house, his psyche launched him on a trip back to the day he'd found her. In her apartment.
*****
"Annie, you here?" Darien shouted. He'd been knocking for about five minutes. Her second week on the job and she was four hours late. Needless to say, both Darien and Bobby had been worried. So, after the meeting with the Official, they headed to her apartment.
Hobbes checked the knob to see if the door was unlocked. When the door opened without protest, he drew his gun. Darien, as if by a telepathic order from Hobbes, quicksilvered and slipped in. Bobby waited a few moments and followed.
The clean apartment was furnished in a very Spartan manner. The living area was open and visible from the front door. The kitchen, the dining area, the living room.
Darien moved with a cat-like grace years of breaking and entering had afforded him. He gently pushed at the door to her bedroom. The sight he saw made his stomach roll. He shook off the quicksilver and choked back the sobs and the morning's breakfast long enough to shout, "Hobbes!" He made a bee-line to the bathroom, barely making it before he was sick.
"Oh, shit," Bobby said. "Oh, Christ." He pulled the cell phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed 911. He told them that he was a federal agent and that they needed assistance. He dialed the all-too-familiar number for the Keep and told her to come for Darien.
When Darien had recovered, he came to stand by Bobby's side. "Oh, God," he whispered, not hiding his emotions at all now. His voice was think with tears so far unshed. "Did you call... whoever?" he choked out.
"Yeah, come on, kid," Bobby spoke softly, soothingly and placed a gentle, supportive hand on Darien's shoulder.
*****
Darien stopped and drug his arm across his eyes to clear away the evidence of his tears. He resumed his workout.
Punch. Kick. Uppercut.
He whaled on the bag until he was sure it would fall from the ceiling. His knuckles would be bruised in the morning, but what did it matter when he couldn't feel anything, anyway?
The blood wouldn't clear from his vision. It was all he saw. Her limp and beaten body, covered in the dark red blood of death. The cuts, the bruises, the broken bones. All of it added up to nightmares for the ex-thief. He hated whoever did that to her. She was smart and vibrant and full of a grace and a life that Darien wished he had a fraction of.
Darien showered and left the gym. He needed to be somewhere, anywhere, but his home. If he went there, he might not ever come out. His feet seemed to carry him to some undisclosed-to-his-brain locale.
*****
Her funeral was simple, elegant. Like she was. Darien managed to hold back the crying fits he felt like throwing in the middle of the service. He got home and headed for the half-empty bottle of vodka in the freezer.
He drank four glasses of the smooth, burning liquid and sobbed like he had done for Kevin. When he finally managed to drag himself to bed, he dreamed of her blood-stained carpet, of her disshevelled clothing, of her still-bleeding nose, of her hair matted and pasted to the carpet with a few hours of dried blood.
He wasn't sure whether he'd ever loose himself of those haunting spectres. He wasn't sure he wanted to either.
*****
Everyday since then had been the same. Get up, go to work, come home, get plastered, cry, sleep. Darien knew it was a destructive cycle, but nothing made the pain go away better than the vodka as it blazed its way through his system.
Hobbes worried like the mother hen he was becoming. He hated to see Darien destroy his life like that, but there was really nothing he could do about it. Bobby told him that he shouldn't just sit there alone in his apartment all the time. But Darien turned down every one of Bobby's offers of companionship.
When Claire finally confronted Darien about the alcohol, he became defensive and began shouting at her. "You think I'm a fucking alcoholic don't you, Claire? I'm not a drunk! It's just a little release. I'm not an addict!" he justified. She stared in shocked pain as his words cut her like a million little knives determined to hurt her. She watched in helplessness as he stormed out of the Keep, trashing a few carts and tossing things about as he left.
*****
"It's not a habit,
It's cool,
I feel alive.
If you don't have it, you're on the other side.
The deeper you stick it in the vein,
The deeper the thoughts,
There's no more pain.
I'm in heaven,
I'm a God.
I'm everywhere,
I feel so high.
It's not a habit,
It's cool,
I feel alive,
If you don't have it, you're on the other side.
I'm not an addict,
Maybe that's a lie."
--"Not an Addict" by K's Choice
*****