Title: Misery
Author: Dare-Bear
Rating: PG13 I guess.
Email: Trustno1@coffin-rock.com
Genre: Angst
Disclaimer: Not mine I swear, it was all Darrin's fault!
Summery: Darien goes through a hard time involving alcohol, but can his friends him in time?
The bar was depressing. There were a few other people there, but what was depressing was that all of them were drowning their sorrows in alcohol. They were so lonely they didn't even want to go home to drink. Especially Darien.
He ordered another round. This had to be his last one for the night. He didn't want to be completely wasted on the walk home.
His depression had grown worse over the past couple days, so he resorted to drinking. It made him feel better.
His 4th drink for the night came. He finished it with only 1 gulp. Putting his money on the table, he got up, swaying a bit, but not much. Then he headed on home.
The walk home wasn't as easy as Darien thought it would be. He wasn't totally drunk, so he could manage.
He was almost home when 3 guys came out of the dark alleyway and jumped him, throwing some hard punches. Darien was too disoriented to fight. He tried anyway, throwing wild punches, even hitting one of the guys in the jaw. But it was to no avail, especially when they brought out a knife, stabbing him a couple of times. Then Darien was down, falling unconscious. They grabbed his wallet and ran away, jumping over a mesh fence and disappearing behind it.
Darien woke up some time later, not knowing what was going on. All he knew was that he was in pain and bleeding in various places. He felt like he had gone through a meat grinder. He tasted blood and had a gash across the side of his face going all the way up to his forehead.
Slowly Darien stood up. Eh was immediately dizzy, his eyesight blurring. He fell against the wall of a building, trying to keep from falling.
After a couple minutes he finally regained his balance. He knew where he was so he limped on home.
Darien got home close to 2 am, and as soon as he got the door open, he walked into his bedroom, collapsing on his bed, and immediately fell asleep.
The next morning, he woke up slowly, knowing he had a headache the size of Texas.
Glancing as his clock, realizing it was 11 am, and knowing he should be at work, he rolled over and fell back asleep, with the help of some sleeping pills that were sitting on the table by his bed.
"I wonder where he is?" Bobby asked himself as he walked down the hall heading for the Official's office.
"Probably in some sort of trouble, as usual," Claire said, walking up behind him.
"Hey Keep, didn't know you were there. But I hope for Fawkes' sake you're wrong," Bobby said, turning around to face her.
"I hope I'm wrong too," Claire replied as Bobby held the door for her to enter the Official's office.
They both walked in and say in the 2 chairs closest to the Official's desk.
"Where's Darien?" asked the Official, his expressions never changing.
"We don't know, sir," Bobby answered, folding his arms across his chest.
"You don't KNOW? Well call and find out," the Official demanded, growing more agitated by the minute.
"We tried, sir. He didn't answer. We were going to head over there now but you called us into the office," Bobby explained.
"Well go find him," he demanded.
"We're on out way sir," Bobby said as he got up and walked out the door, followed by Claire.
Bobby knocked on Darien's door for the second time, waited for a few seconds, and he didn't answer he picked the lock to get in.
"Darien?" Claire called, hoping he would answer so she would know he's all right.
They heard a groaning sound coming from the bedroom, and made their way there quickly.
What they found both worried and relived them.
Darien was sitting up in bed, his head being held up with his hands, obviously in pain. He was covered in bruises, at least from what they could see, had some blood stains on his shirt in a couple places, his hair was a matty, greasy mess, and they could see blood dripping from either his mouth or nose. Neither was certain since his hands were covering most of his face. But overall he just looked like crap.
"Hey partner, what happened to you?" Bobby asked him, sitting next to him on the bed.
"I have no idea," Darien replied, surprised to find out he was able to speak.
"We've been looking for you for a while, did you not know there was work today?" Claire asked him, sitting on the other side of him.
"I knew it, I just felt.feel like crap, and I didn't want to bother with work today," he said as he lifted his head up to look at his friends, revealing more bruises, a black eye, and the deep gash that ran along half of his face.
"Jeeze, Darien, did you have a fight with a meat grinder and it won?" Claire asked sarcastically, walking to the bathroom to gather supplies so she could tend to his wounds.
"Something like that, yeah," he told them. "Maybe I'll remember it all later."
"I'm sure it will," Bobby replied, knowing why Darien didn't remember. He must have been pretty wasted because he could smell the alcohol on him. Claire smelled it too, but neither of them said anything about it.
Just then Claire came back into the room with some gauze and rubbing alcohol for his cut and shallow stab wounds, cringing when she saw them again.
"Do I look THAT bad?" Darien asked her, seeing the way she had looked at him. He reached his had up to touch the cut on his face and cringed himself. "Ow."
She sat down next to him and put some rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball. Then she rubbed it on his cut, while he whined the whole time.
"Oh just shut up Darien, it doesn't hurt that bad," she told him, still cleaning his cut.
"Well you would say that, I'm not cleaning YOUR gaping wounds now am I?" he replied sarcastically, reaching up to move her hand away from him. "Don't even think about putting that stuff on my other gaping wounds."
"Fine, be a baby about it, but at least let me bandage them, they look pretty bad," she replied, relieved as she watched him remove his shirt so she could see.
"Ouch, do they hurt much?" she asked him, poking the stab wound with her finger a little bit. He reflexively grabbed her wrist to keep her from touching him there again.
"Only when you poke it!" he said in a whiny tone of voice.
"Humph, baby," she said under her breath as she unraveled a piece of gauze and taped it to Darien's side, then doing the same thing to his other wound which was closer to his shoulder. Since that one was still bleeding she had to apply a little pressure, which resulted in Darien whimpering, sounding very much like a dog.
"Hurry uppp, it huuurrrts," Darien whined, looking at Bobby for encouragement, who just looked at him sympathetically.
She was done but when she looked back up to Darien's forehead the cut there was bleeding again, so this too she taped up with gauze.
"All done," she remarked, replacing the bandages back in the bathroom.
"Good, because I really want to take a shower," he said, getting up. He immediately sat back down, the blood rushing to his head. "Maybe later."
"I would suggest a bath instead, a shower would wet the bandages, cause your wounds to hurt like hell, especially the one on your head. And I don't really want to have to come back here to replace the gauze. A bath would make things much easier, cause less pain, and just overall be better," the Keep explained, hoping like hell he would listen to her for once.
"Yeah, okay, a shower does sound pretty damn painful," he said, rubbing the back of his head instinctively, though it was days before he would need another shot.
"Got a headache there, pal?" Bobby asked, worried it might be the first signs of Quicksilver Madness approaching.
"Not for a couple more-" Darien started, running towards the bathroom before he finished. Bobby and Claire could hear him puking.
Claire cringed at the sound. "I hope he's alright," she commented.
When the sounds dissipated, they slowly made their way to the bathroom. They found Darien leaning against the wall, completely pale, sweating, and panting.
"Oh Darien...." Claire said as she went to help him sit up.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. I'll just take a bath, since I'm already in the bathroom," Darien told her, hoping she would stop babying him.
"Alright, we'll just leave you to that, call if you need anything," Claire remarked, heading towards the door.
"I'll stop by later, after work, to see how you're doing, okay?" Bobby asked, still very worried about his partner.
"Fine, see you later," Darien answered, not wanting to argue any further. He was eager for them to go so he could be left alone.
"Get better, alright pal?" Bobby said as he opened the door.
"Yeah," Darien replied, relieved to be left alone. He wasn't going to take a bath for a while but at least he didn't have to deal with his friends worrying all the time whether he (or more importantly the gland) would be all right.
"He looks pretty bad," Bobby told the Official. "I wouldn't expect him to be in for work tomorrow."
"Fawkes always manages to get himself into trouble, doesn't he?" the exasperated Official asked, not expecting anyone to answer.
"Well most of the time it's not his fault, sir," Bobby defended Darien, like any friend would.
"Oh I beg to differ, Hobbes. He brings all these problems on himself," the Official argued, his tone of voice ending the argument. "Tell him to be in here tomorrow morning, or there will be serious consequences."
"With all due respect, sir, I don't think it would be wise." Bobby began, shutting his mouth when he realized the Official was glaring at him.
"This meeting is over," the Official said, dismissing the agent and going back to his paperwork.
Bobby left, heading straight down to the Keep.
Darien had been laying on the couch for an hour or two. He was too tired to get up but not tired enough to fall asleep. He'd puked a couple of times, but after that there was nothing else that could come up. All that resulted in was a sore throat.
Sure he had a hangover, but he still wanted to have that nice warm feeling of alcohol flowing through his veins. But since that would only come right back up and hurt like hell, he figured he better wait.
Already his body wasn't adapting to him not having any alcohol in his blood stream. He had been drinking it non-stop almost for a week. As soon as he realized he had a craving for it while he was lying on the couch, he started shivering and broke out into a cold sweat. But his body was so beat, that took the last ounce of energy away from him and he fell into a restless sleep.
At about 11, Bobby was able to leave work. There was TONS of paperwork left from his last case with Darien, and since Darien wasn't there to help him, he had to do it all by himself.
So, there he was, heading over to Darien's to check up on him. He knew Darien didn't want him there, but he had to go. Bobby was worried about his friend.
It wasn't such a surprise to Bobby when he knocked on the door that Darien didn't answer. So he just picked the lock yet again to enter.
When he was in, he didn't see Darien anywhere. And he didn't hear anything, which was unsettling to Bobby.
He looked around a bit until he got to the bathroom. There was Darien, submerged in the bathtub, chest-deep in the water, fully clothed and unconscious. And in the middle of the tub was a blow dryer, which was plugged in.
Bobby moved as fast as he could. He grabbed a broom and got the blow dryer out of the water and unplugged. Then he lifted Darien partly out of the water, checking for a pulse. It was faint and rapid. He also wasn't breathing, so Bobby had to administer CPR.
After what felt like to Bobby a couple hours, which was only a couple minutes, Darien started coughing up the water he had inhaled. Bobby turned him on his side and let the water drain from his lungs.
When Darien was finished, he began shaking. Bobby fetched him a blanket, wrapping it around him.
"You're gonna be all right, just hand tight," Bobby reassured him. Darien looked up at him with a desperate look in his eyes before passing out.
Bobby took that opportunity to grab the phone and call for an ambulance, and then call Claire at home.
The ambulance arrived shortly, Claire a couple minutes later. She got there just in time to watch Darien being carried to the ambulance in a stretcher.
"Bobby, what happened?" Claire frantically asked him.
"Bathtub, water, Darien, blow dryer," Bobby replied, obviously not in the mood to talk.
Darien was put in the ambulance while Claire and Bobby got into the back. The EMTs didn't object when Claire told them she was Darien's doctor.
Darien's friends could only watch as the doctors did all they could to stabilize him. He was breathing, which was good, but he still wasn't conscious.
"Wait a minute, if he was taking a bath, why are all his clothes on?" Claire asked, pondering how this could happen.
"Maybe he was getting ready to take a bath by blow drying his hair and then he just slipped and fell in," Bobby suggested.
"That might make sense except if he was about to take a bath, why would be blow drying his hair?" Claire commented, the wheels in her head turning, trying to solve this mystery.
"Maybe he already took a bath and was blow drying his hair when he got out," Bobby said.
"But his hair is still greasy and he's still wearing the clothes he was wearing today when we came to see him before he took a bath," Claire commented, looking at Darien intently.
"Aw, crap," was Bobby's remark.
Darien was resting peacefully when Claire and Bobby entered. She they sat down on the chairs next to the bed and watched him sleep. But since neither of them had slept all night they soon nodded off, not knowing that Darien had woken up.
He awoke slowly, not sure he wanted to open his eyes. He heard the faint beeping of a heart monitor and Bobby's snoring.
Finally he opened his eyes, and then squinted to adjust to the bright lights. He looked over and saw Claire, drooling just a bit. And then there was Bobby with his head back, snoring.
He didn't really remember what happened to get him into the hospital, but he felt like crap, so it must've been pretty bad. What he really wanted was some alcohol. He had gotten addicted to it, for the past few days. So maybe that's why he felt like crap.
Trying not to wake his friends, he slowly got up, pulling out the electrodes stuck to his chest. But that only resulted in the heart monitor going flat-line, which woke Bobby and Claire. The a shit-load of doctors and nurses rushed into the room, ready to start Darien's heart again, only to find him sitting up in his bed looking bewildered.
The closest nurse pushed him back down into bed easily, since he was so weak, and replaced the electrodes. Then she left the room with the others, looking agitated, and uttered an "I'm too old for this job," as she left the room.
"Darien, what was that all about?" Claire scolded him.
"I just wanted to get up, find out what was going on. Is there a problem with that?" Darien asked her, trying to get more comfortable. His whole body was aching.
"Yes, there is. You need to stay in bed, you almost died tonight," she responded, unconsciously fluffing his pillows.
"Yeah, about that, I don't really remember what happened, could you fill me in?" Darien asked, leaning his head back.
"You took a bath with a 125-volt blow dryer, my friend," Bobby responded, not enjoying seeing the mental image of Darien looking pretty much dead in the bathtub.
Darien closed his eyes, the memory coming back to him. He knew he was trying to kill himself. His life was just sucking worse than it had ever. He didn't feel anything anymore, but it was mostly the alcohol withdrawal. He just couldn't stand it. He tried to find his car keys so he could go out and get some, but they were nowhere to be found (Bobby had taken them without telling Darien). So he made a split-second decision and decided he wanted to take a bath with a blow dryer. But he had forgotten in his panic that Bobby told him he was gonna stop by his place after work. Good thing he did, Darien thought now.
"Why the hell would you do something like that Fawkes? It is NOT worth it, and you know it," Bobby remarked, not understanding his partner at all.
"I know.thanks." Darien said slowly, already falling back asleep.
"Come on, Bobby. Lets get going. We need sleep, and we aren't helping him by being here. You can talk to him about this later, alright?" Claire reasoned, in desperate need of sleep.
"Yeah, okay," Bobby said, giving in. He wasn't in the mood to argue. And he DID need some sleep.
So they left him there, hoping he would be all right.
"Did you ask the doctors when he would be able to leave the hospital?" the Official asked, seeing Bobby and Claire walk into his office, both with dark circles under their eyes.
"Yeah, we can check him out in 2 days," Claire replied, slumping down in the chair.
"If he survived till then," Bobby added.
"What does that mean?" asked the Official, not sue he even wanted to know.
"He tried to kill himself, boss. And he might try again, since he didn't succeed. There isn't much we can do about it right now, just try to help him get better, try not to leave him alone too much until we are sure he is going to be alright," Hobbes explained.
The Official just nodded. Then he told Bobby and Claire to go home and get some rest.
"Check up on Fawkes when you wake up," he told them, hoping it wasn't too late to save him from himself.
Darien woke up suddenly this time, gasping for breath. It was dark so his eyes had to adjust. No one was around, so he decided he wanted to get out of there.
Without disturbing the heart monitor, Darien grabbed his clothes, pulling his pants on.
He took out his IV, and then ripped off the electrodes. But before any doctors or nurses could run in to check on him, he turned invisible, letting the cool quicksilver flow over he body.
When the doctors rushed in, they stopped, looking at the empty bed, confused. But by that time, Darien was already out the door, bolting towards the nearest exit.
Bobby was awoken at about noon by the shrill ringing of the phone. He reached his hand over and grabbed the cordless, substituting an odd grunting sound for a hello.
"Mr. Hobbes, is that you?" asked an unfamiliar voice.
"Yeah, who's askin?" Bobby questioned, still not fully awake.
"Your partner, Darien Fawkes, is missing from the hospital. When the heart monitor went flat, I was one of the doctors that rushed in to help him, only to find him and his clothes gone," replied the man, obviously Darien's doctor.
"Well shit. Uh, thanks," Bobby replied, pressing the talk button on the phone to end the conversation. He then jumped up, grabbed some clothes, and picked up the phone to call Claire.
Now that Darien was free, he didn't know where to go. But he found 10 bucks in his pocket, and decided to go to the store and get what he really wanted: whiskey.
After getting his bottle of Jack Daniels, he used his last dollar to take the bus home.
Once he got there, he plopped down on the couch to watch some TV and drink his Daniels. He was soon sleeping soundly.
Minutes later, Bobby let himself into Darien's apartment, not really expecting Darien to be there. But he was, too intoxicated to stay awake, Bobby figured, seeing the empty bottle of whiskey on the counter.
Bobby picked up the nearest phone and dialed Claire's cell number. She answered and he told her where Darien was. She was on her way there.
So Bobby put a blanket over Darien and sat down on a chair, waiting for him to wake up.
Bobby woke up, looking around. Then he remembered Darien, and then the fact that he shouldn't have fallen asleep.
Darien wasn't anywhere to be seen. But then Bobby heard him in the bathroom, throwing up.
Once the sounds were gone, Bobby got up and walked towards the bathroom. He saw Darien lying on the floor with his back down, breathing heavily, his eyes shut.
"Hey, pal, how ya doin?" Bobby asked, leaning over Darien.
He opened his eyes. "Uhhh." was all Darien managed to get out. He rolled over slowly, which resulted in his face getting smashed against the tile floor.
"Here, I'll help you get up," Bobby offered, holding out his hand. Darien reached up and took it, using as much strength as he had to pull himself up. But he was so dizzy that he slammed his back into the wall.
"Ow," was all he had to say.
"Okay, come on, partner, lets go to the couch," Bobby suggested, helping Darien steady himself.
The walked back out into the living room where both of them just plopped down on the couch, Darien shiny with sweat.
There was a knock on the door, and Bobby remembered Claire. He looked over at the clock and realized he had only been asleep for a couple minutes.
He stood up and walked over to the door, opening it.
There was Claire, soaking wet from the brief shower storm that must have just caught her. She was breathing pretty heavily. Bobby thought she looked miserable as hell.
"Claire, jeeze, come in. I'll get you a towel," Bobby said, leaving the door open and heading to the bathroom.
"Where's Darien?" she asked Bobby, looking around. Then she heard a grunt and Darien's arm emerged from the couch.
She walked over to the couch and breathed a sign of relief when she saw Darien, even if he did look like crap. At least he was there.
Bobby came back into the room carrying a big fluffy pink towel.
"I never pictured you as a pink towel kind of guy," Bobby said to Darien, smiling as he handed it over to Claire.
"It was here when I moved in," replied Darien, causing Claire to make an odd snorting sound before she turned red.
"Let me see your tattoo," Claire recovered, walking over to Darien and taking his wrist.
"Two green. Gotta give you a shot," she said, pulling some counteragent out of her coat pocket. "Sit up."
He did as he was told, moving slowly until he was in a sitting position.
She punctured his skin and let the blue fluid from the syringe flow into Darien's veins, making him cringe.
When she was done, he turned the other way so he was sitting on the couch, leaning against the back of it.
"You really shouldn't have left the hospital, Darien. They were only trying to help you get better," Claire told him, careful not to be harsh.
"Yeah, well, I can get better here. The hospital wasn't helping and I would rather be home than stuck in a hospital bed all damn day," Darien replied as he stood up. "Now if you don't mind, I'd very much like to take a shower now."
Claire let out a sigh as she stood up and went to stand by Bobby.
"I'm gonna check up on ya in an hour, so don't try anything stupid," Bobby said, opening the door for him and Claire.
"Yeah, whatever," Darien responded, catching the towel Claire threw him and then disappeared into the bathroom.
After getting out of the shower, Darien stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, looking at his beaten and bruised up face. Then, suddenly, all his pent-up aggression was released as he slammed his fist into the mirror, shards of glass falling everywhere.
He moved his hand and looked at it. There were jagged pieces of glass imbedded in his skin and there was blood everywhere.
A couple seconds later, Darien picked the pieces of glass out of his flesh, throwing them into the sink. Then he wrapped some gauze around it and walking into the living room to watch TV.
Darien jumped when he heard a knock on the door. He was half-asleep and didn't expect any sort of loud noises.
Then he remembered that Bobby was supposed to come by so he walked to the door.
He opened it, allowing Bobby to enter. The both took a seat on the couch, Darien making sure to hide his fist.
"So how're you feeling? You look a lot better," Bobby remarked, sounding nonchalant.
"Yeah I guess so," Darien said, forgetting about his fist for a moment as he itched the side of his face with the bandaged hand.
"What happened with your hand?" Bobby asked, seeing all the blood oozing out of the already saturated bandages.
"Nothing," he said quietly, looking in the opposite direction of Bobby.
"No way, partner. We'll clean that up while you tell me what happened," Bobby demanded, making sure Darien followed him to the bathroom.
Then he saw the mirror, and the pieces of blood-covered glass in the sink.
"Well, I guess that answers THAT question," Bobby said, looking in the cupboard for more bandages.
Bobby found the needed supplies and Darien started unraveling the old ones. There were numerous deep gashed and blood everywhere.
Bobby took Darien's hand and held it under cold water, much to Darien's dismay. He gritted his teeth and tried to pull away, but Bobby's grip was too strong and he kept Darien's hand submerged.
When all the blood was washed away, he removed his hand, revealing how many cuts there actually were.
Bobby grabbed the gauze and wrapped it around Darien's fist before it could start bleeding again.
They worked silently, picking up the stray pieces of mirror in the sink, some on the ground and counter. Bobby washed his hands and they walked out to the living room.
There they sat, in silence. But after a couple minutes Darien started shaking. Bobby noticed he was breaking out in a sweat.
"Darien? What's wrong?" Bobby asked him, doing whatever he could to calm him down.
"I think I just need some beer," Darien replied, standing up.
"Oh no ya don't, pal. No more alcohol for you," Bobby said, making Darien sit back down.
"You aren't my doctor, you can't tell me what to do," Darien stated, pushing Bobby back so he could stand back up.
"Alcohol will only make you feel WORSE, and there is no way I am going to let there be a repeat of what happened a few days ago," Bobby argued, trying his best to stand face-to-face with Darien. But all that did was cause Darien to make a sound that was half laugh, half snort. He sat back down.
"All right, good," Bobby remarked sitting down next to him. "All you have to do is stay off alcohol for a few days and you should be just fine."
Darien made a growling noise and crossed his arms. "Fine. But you look a little stressed-out there, Hobbsey. Maybe you should take your pills. Ya know, before you have a stroke or something," Darien replied, smiling a little when he realized each partner was doing his best to keep the other in check.
"Right," Bobby remarked, taking a bottle of pills out of his coat pocket and popping a couple.
"Now, will you PLEASE go home? I got a lot of sleep to catch up on, and from the looks of it, so do you," Darien said, rubbing the back of his neck impulsively.
"Alright, but you call me if you need anything. Don't hesitate to do it, either," Bobby said, getting up while rubbing his eyes and heading for the door.
"See you later, partner," Darien answered, closing the door behind Bobby.
Darien started stripping most of his clothes off on the way to his bedroom. Once there, he flipped off the lights and collapsed on his bed in a dream-less slumber.
Author: Dare-Bear
Rating: PG13 I guess.
Email: Trustno1@coffin-rock.com
Genre: Angst
Disclaimer: Not mine I swear, it was all Darrin's fault!
Summery: Darien goes through a hard time involving alcohol, but can his friends him in time?
The bar was depressing. There were a few other people there, but what was depressing was that all of them were drowning their sorrows in alcohol. They were so lonely they didn't even want to go home to drink. Especially Darien.
He ordered another round. This had to be his last one for the night. He didn't want to be completely wasted on the walk home.
His depression had grown worse over the past couple days, so he resorted to drinking. It made him feel better.
His 4th drink for the night came. He finished it with only 1 gulp. Putting his money on the table, he got up, swaying a bit, but not much. Then he headed on home.
The walk home wasn't as easy as Darien thought it would be. He wasn't totally drunk, so he could manage.
He was almost home when 3 guys came out of the dark alleyway and jumped him, throwing some hard punches. Darien was too disoriented to fight. He tried anyway, throwing wild punches, even hitting one of the guys in the jaw. But it was to no avail, especially when they brought out a knife, stabbing him a couple of times. Then Darien was down, falling unconscious. They grabbed his wallet and ran away, jumping over a mesh fence and disappearing behind it.
Darien woke up some time later, not knowing what was going on. All he knew was that he was in pain and bleeding in various places. He felt like he had gone through a meat grinder. He tasted blood and had a gash across the side of his face going all the way up to his forehead.
Slowly Darien stood up. Eh was immediately dizzy, his eyesight blurring. He fell against the wall of a building, trying to keep from falling.
After a couple minutes he finally regained his balance. He knew where he was so he limped on home.
Darien got home close to 2 am, and as soon as he got the door open, he walked into his bedroom, collapsing on his bed, and immediately fell asleep.
The next morning, he woke up slowly, knowing he had a headache the size of Texas.
Glancing as his clock, realizing it was 11 am, and knowing he should be at work, he rolled over and fell back asleep, with the help of some sleeping pills that were sitting on the table by his bed.
"I wonder where he is?" Bobby asked himself as he walked down the hall heading for the Official's office.
"Probably in some sort of trouble, as usual," Claire said, walking up behind him.
"Hey Keep, didn't know you were there. But I hope for Fawkes' sake you're wrong," Bobby said, turning around to face her.
"I hope I'm wrong too," Claire replied as Bobby held the door for her to enter the Official's office.
They both walked in and say in the 2 chairs closest to the Official's desk.
"Where's Darien?" asked the Official, his expressions never changing.
"We don't know, sir," Bobby answered, folding his arms across his chest.
"You don't KNOW? Well call and find out," the Official demanded, growing more agitated by the minute.
"We tried, sir. He didn't answer. We were going to head over there now but you called us into the office," Bobby explained.
"Well go find him," he demanded.
"We're on out way sir," Bobby said as he got up and walked out the door, followed by Claire.
Bobby knocked on Darien's door for the second time, waited for a few seconds, and he didn't answer he picked the lock to get in.
"Darien?" Claire called, hoping he would answer so she would know he's all right.
They heard a groaning sound coming from the bedroom, and made their way there quickly.
What they found both worried and relived them.
Darien was sitting up in bed, his head being held up with his hands, obviously in pain. He was covered in bruises, at least from what they could see, had some blood stains on his shirt in a couple places, his hair was a matty, greasy mess, and they could see blood dripping from either his mouth or nose. Neither was certain since his hands were covering most of his face. But overall he just looked like crap.
"Hey partner, what happened to you?" Bobby asked him, sitting next to him on the bed.
"I have no idea," Darien replied, surprised to find out he was able to speak.
"We've been looking for you for a while, did you not know there was work today?" Claire asked him, sitting on the other side of him.
"I knew it, I just felt.feel like crap, and I didn't want to bother with work today," he said as he lifted his head up to look at his friends, revealing more bruises, a black eye, and the deep gash that ran along half of his face.
"Jeeze, Darien, did you have a fight with a meat grinder and it won?" Claire asked sarcastically, walking to the bathroom to gather supplies so she could tend to his wounds.
"Something like that, yeah," he told them. "Maybe I'll remember it all later."
"I'm sure it will," Bobby replied, knowing why Darien didn't remember. He must have been pretty wasted because he could smell the alcohol on him. Claire smelled it too, but neither of them said anything about it.
Just then Claire came back into the room with some gauze and rubbing alcohol for his cut and shallow stab wounds, cringing when she saw them again.
"Do I look THAT bad?" Darien asked her, seeing the way she had looked at him. He reached his had up to touch the cut on his face and cringed himself. "Ow."
She sat down next to him and put some rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball. Then she rubbed it on his cut, while he whined the whole time.
"Oh just shut up Darien, it doesn't hurt that bad," she told him, still cleaning his cut.
"Well you would say that, I'm not cleaning YOUR gaping wounds now am I?" he replied sarcastically, reaching up to move her hand away from him. "Don't even think about putting that stuff on my other gaping wounds."
"Fine, be a baby about it, but at least let me bandage them, they look pretty bad," she replied, relieved as she watched him remove his shirt so she could see.
"Ouch, do they hurt much?" she asked him, poking the stab wound with her finger a little bit. He reflexively grabbed her wrist to keep her from touching him there again.
"Only when you poke it!" he said in a whiny tone of voice.
"Humph, baby," she said under her breath as she unraveled a piece of gauze and taped it to Darien's side, then doing the same thing to his other wound which was closer to his shoulder. Since that one was still bleeding she had to apply a little pressure, which resulted in Darien whimpering, sounding very much like a dog.
"Hurry uppp, it huuurrrts," Darien whined, looking at Bobby for encouragement, who just looked at him sympathetically.
She was done but when she looked back up to Darien's forehead the cut there was bleeding again, so this too she taped up with gauze.
"All done," she remarked, replacing the bandages back in the bathroom.
"Good, because I really want to take a shower," he said, getting up. He immediately sat back down, the blood rushing to his head. "Maybe later."
"I would suggest a bath instead, a shower would wet the bandages, cause your wounds to hurt like hell, especially the one on your head. And I don't really want to have to come back here to replace the gauze. A bath would make things much easier, cause less pain, and just overall be better," the Keep explained, hoping like hell he would listen to her for once.
"Yeah, okay, a shower does sound pretty damn painful," he said, rubbing the back of his head instinctively, though it was days before he would need another shot.
"Got a headache there, pal?" Bobby asked, worried it might be the first signs of Quicksilver Madness approaching.
"Not for a couple more-" Darien started, running towards the bathroom before he finished. Bobby and Claire could hear him puking.
Claire cringed at the sound. "I hope he's alright," she commented.
When the sounds dissipated, they slowly made their way to the bathroom. They found Darien leaning against the wall, completely pale, sweating, and panting.
"Oh Darien...." Claire said as she went to help him sit up.
"I'm fine, I'm fine. I'll just take a bath, since I'm already in the bathroom," Darien told her, hoping she would stop babying him.
"Alright, we'll just leave you to that, call if you need anything," Claire remarked, heading towards the door.
"I'll stop by later, after work, to see how you're doing, okay?" Bobby asked, still very worried about his partner.
"Fine, see you later," Darien answered, not wanting to argue any further. He was eager for them to go so he could be left alone.
"Get better, alright pal?" Bobby said as he opened the door.
"Yeah," Darien replied, relieved to be left alone. He wasn't going to take a bath for a while but at least he didn't have to deal with his friends worrying all the time whether he (or more importantly the gland) would be all right.
"He looks pretty bad," Bobby told the Official. "I wouldn't expect him to be in for work tomorrow."
"Fawkes always manages to get himself into trouble, doesn't he?" the exasperated Official asked, not expecting anyone to answer.
"Well most of the time it's not his fault, sir," Bobby defended Darien, like any friend would.
"Oh I beg to differ, Hobbes. He brings all these problems on himself," the Official argued, his tone of voice ending the argument. "Tell him to be in here tomorrow morning, or there will be serious consequences."
"With all due respect, sir, I don't think it would be wise." Bobby began, shutting his mouth when he realized the Official was glaring at him.
"This meeting is over," the Official said, dismissing the agent and going back to his paperwork.
Bobby left, heading straight down to the Keep.
Darien had been laying on the couch for an hour or two. He was too tired to get up but not tired enough to fall asleep. He'd puked a couple of times, but after that there was nothing else that could come up. All that resulted in was a sore throat.
Sure he had a hangover, but he still wanted to have that nice warm feeling of alcohol flowing through his veins. But since that would only come right back up and hurt like hell, he figured he better wait.
Already his body wasn't adapting to him not having any alcohol in his blood stream. He had been drinking it non-stop almost for a week. As soon as he realized he had a craving for it while he was lying on the couch, he started shivering and broke out into a cold sweat. But his body was so beat, that took the last ounce of energy away from him and he fell into a restless sleep.
At about 11, Bobby was able to leave work. There was TONS of paperwork left from his last case with Darien, and since Darien wasn't there to help him, he had to do it all by himself.
So, there he was, heading over to Darien's to check up on him. He knew Darien didn't want him there, but he had to go. Bobby was worried about his friend.
It wasn't such a surprise to Bobby when he knocked on the door that Darien didn't answer. So he just picked the lock yet again to enter.
When he was in, he didn't see Darien anywhere. And he didn't hear anything, which was unsettling to Bobby.
He looked around a bit until he got to the bathroom. There was Darien, submerged in the bathtub, chest-deep in the water, fully clothed and unconscious. And in the middle of the tub was a blow dryer, which was plugged in.
Bobby moved as fast as he could. He grabbed a broom and got the blow dryer out of the water and unplugged. Then he lifted Darien partly out of the water, checking for a pulse. It was faint and rapid. He also wasn't breathing, so Bobby had to administer CPR.
After what felt like to Bobby a couple hours, which was only a couple minutes, Darien started coughing up the water he had inhaled. Bobby turned him on his side and let the water drain from his lungs.
When Darien was finished, he began shaking. Bobby fetched him a blanket, wrapping it around him.
"You're gonna be all right, just hand tight," Bobby reassured him. Darien looked up at him with a desperate look in his eyes before passing out.
Bobby took that opportunity to grab the phone and call for an ambulance, and then call Claire at home.
The ambulance arrived shortly, Claire a couple minutes later. She got there just in time to watch Darien being carried to the ambulance in a stretcher.
"Bobby, what happened?" Claire frantically asked him.
"Bathtub, water, Darien, blow dryer," Bobby replied, obviously not in the mood to talk.
Darien was put in the ambulance while Claire and Bobby got into the back. The EMTs didn't object when Claire told them she was Darien's doctor.
Darien's friends could only watch as the doctors did all they could to stabilize him. He was breathing, which was good, but he still wasn't conscious.
"Wait a minute, if he was taking a bath, why are all his clothes on?" Claire asked, pondering how this could happen.
"Maybe he was getting ready to take a bath by blow drying his hair and then he just slipped and fell in," Bobby suggested.
"That might make sense except if he was about to take a bath, why would be blow drying his hair?" Claire commented, the wheels in her head turning, trying to solve this mystery.
"Maybe he already took a bath and was blow drying his hair when he got out," Bobby said.
"But his hair is still greasy and he's still wearing the clothes he was wearing today when we came to see him before he took a bath," Claire commented, looking at Darien intently.
"Aw, crap," was Bobby's remark.
Darien was resting peacefully when Claire and Bobby entered. She they sat down on the chairs next to the bed and watched him sleep. But since neither of them had slept all night they soon nodded off, not knowing that Darien had woken up.
He awoke slowly, not sure he wanted to open his eyes. He heard the faint beeping of a heart monitor and Bobby's snoring.
Finally he opened his eyes, and then squinted to adjust to the bright lights. He looked over and saw Claire, drooling just a bit. And then there was Bobby with his head back, snoring.
He didn't really remember what happened to get him into the hospital, but he felt like crap, so it must've been pretty bad. What he really wanted was some alcohol. He had gotten addicted to it, for the past few days. So maybe that's why he felt like crap.
Trying not to wake his friends, he slowly got up, pulling out the electrodes stuck to his chest. But that only resulted in the heart monitor going flat-line, which woke Bobby and Claire. The a shit-load of doctors and nurses rushed into the room, ready to start Darien's heart again, only to find him sitting up in his bed looking bewildered.
The closest nurse pushed him back down into bed easily, since he was so weak, and replaced the electrodes. Then she left the room with the others, looking agitated, and uttered an "I'm too old for this job," as she left the room.
"Darien, what was that all about?" Claire scolded him.
"I just wanted to get up, find out what was going on. Is there a problem with that?" Darien asked her, trying to get more comfortable. His whole body was aching.
"Yes, there is. You need to stay in bed, you almost died tonight," she responded, unconsciously fluffing his pillows.
"Yeah, about that, I don't really remember what happened, could you fill me in?" Darien asked, leaning his head back.
"You took a bath with a 125-volt blow dryer, my friend," Bobby responded, not enjoying seeing the mental image of Darien looking pretty much dead in the bathtub.
Darien closed his eyes, the memory coming back to him. He knew he was trying to kill himself. His life was just sucking worse than it had ever. He didn't feel anything anymore, but it was mostly the alcohol withdrawal. He just couldn't stand it. He tried to find his car keys so he could go out and get some, but they were nowhere to be found (Bobby had taken them without telling Darien). So he made a split-second decision and decided he wanted to take a bath with a blow dryer. But he had forgotten in his panic that Bobby told him he was gonna stop by his place after work. Good thing he did, Darien thought now.
"Why the hell would you do something like that Fawkes? It is NOT worth it, and you know it," Bobby remarked, not understanding his partner at all.
"I know.thanks." Darien said slowly, already falling back asleep.
"Come on, Bobby. Lets get going. We need sleep, and we aren't helping him by being here. You can talk to him about this later, alright?" Claire reasoned, in desperate need of sleep.
"Yeah, okay," Bobby said, giving in. He wasn't in the mood to argue. And he DID need some sleep.
So they left him there, hoping he would be all right.
"Did you ask the doctors when he would be able to leave the hospital?" the Official asked, seeing Bobby and Claire walk into his office, both with dark circles under their eyes.
"Yeah, we can check him out in 2 days," Claire replied, slumping down in the chair.
"If he survived till then," Bobby added.
"What does that mean?" asked the Official, not sue he even wanted to know.
"He tried to kill himself, boss. And he might try again, since he didn't succeed. There isn't much we can do about it right now, just try to help him get better, try not to leave him alone too much until we are sure he is going to be alright," Hobbes explained.
The Official just nodded. Then he told Bobby and Claire to go home and get some rest.
"Check up on Fawkes when you wake up," he told them, hoping it wasn't too late to save him from himself.
Darien woke up suddenly this time, gasping for breath. It was dark so his eyes had to adjust. No one was around, so he decided he wanted to get out of there.
Without disturbing the heart monitor, Darien grabbed his clothes, pulling his pants on.
He took out his IV, and then ripped off the electrodes. But before any doctors or nurses could run in to check on him, he turned invisible, letting the cool quicksilver flow over he body.
When the doctors rushed in, they stopped, looking at the empty bed, confused. But by that time, Darien was already out the door, bolting towards the nearest exit.
Bobby was awoken at about noon by the shrill ringing of the phone. He reached his hand over and grabbed the cordless, substituting an odd grunting sound for a hello.
"Mr. Hobbes, is that you?" asked an unfamiliar voice.
"Yeah, who's askin?" Bobby questioned, still not fully awake.
"Your partner, Darien Fawkes, is missing from the hospital. When the heart monitor went flat, I was one of the doctors that rushed in to help him, only to find him and his clothes gone," replied the man, obviously Darien's doctor.
"Well shit. Uh, thanks," Bobby replied, pressing the talk button on the phone to end the conversation. He then jumped up, grabbed some clothes, and picked up the phone to call Claire.
Now that Darien was free, he didn't know where to go. But he found 10 bucks in his pocket, and decided to go to the store and get what he really wanted: whiskey.
After getting his bottle of Jack Daniels, he used his last dollar to take the bus home.
Once he got there, he plopped down on the couch to watch some TV and drink his Daniels. He was soon sleeping soundly.
Minutes later, Bobby let himself into Darien's apartment, not really expecting Darien to be there. But he was, too intoxicated to stay awake, Bobby figured, seeing the empty bottle of whiskey on the counter.
Bobby picked up the nearest phone and dialed Claire's cell number. She answered and he told her where Darien was. She was on her way there.
So Bobby put a blanket over Darien and sat down on a chair, waiting for him to wake up.
Bobby woke up, looking around. Then he remembered Darien, and then the fact that he shouldn't have fallen asleep.
Darien wasn't anywhere to be seen. But then Bobby heard him in the bathroom, throwing up.
Once the sounds were gone, Bobby got up and walked towards the bathroom. He saw Darien lying on the floor with his back down, breathing heavily, his eyes shut.
"Hey, pal, how ya doin?" Bobby asked, leaning over Darien.
He opened his eyes. "Uhhh." was all Darien managed to get out. He rolled over slowly, which resulted in his face getting smashed against the tile floor.
"Here, I'll help you get up," Bobby offered, holding out his hand. Darien reached up and took it, using as much strength as he had to pull himself up. But he was so dizzy that he slammed his back into the wall.
"Ow," was all he had to say.
"Okay, come on, partner, lets go to the couch," Bobby suggested, helping Darien steady himself.
The walked back out into the living room where both of them just plopped down on the couch, Darien shiny with sweat.
There was a knock on the door, and Bobby remembered Claire. He looked over at the clock and realized he had only been asleep for a couple minutes.
He stood up and walked over to the door, opening it.
There was Claire, soaking wet from the brief shower storm that must have just caught her. She was breathing pretty heavily. Bobby thought she looked miserable as hell.
"Claire, jeeze, come in. I'll get you a towel," Bobby said, leaving the door open and heading to the bathroom.
"Where's Darien?" she asked Bobby, looking around. Then she heard a grunt and Darien's arm emerged from the couch.
She walked over to the couch and breathed a sign of relief when she saw Darien, even if he did look like crap. At least he was there.
Bobby came back into the room carrying a big fluffy pink towel.
"I never pictured you as a pink towel kind of guy," Bobby said to Darien, smiling as he handed it over to Claire.
"It was here when I moved in," replied Darien, causing Claire to make an odd snorting sound before she turned red.
"Let me see your tattoo," Claire recovered, walking over to Darien and taking his wrist.
"Two green. Gotta give you a shot," she said, pulling some counteragent out of her coat pocket. "Sit up."
He did as he was told, moving slowly until he was in a sitting position.
She punctured his skin and let the blue fluid from the syringe flow into Darien's veins, making him cringe.
When she was done, he turned the other way so he was sitting on the couch, leaning against the back of it.
"You really shouldn't have left the hospital, Darien. They were only trying to help you get better," Claire told him, careful not to be harsh.
"Yeah, well, I can get better here. The hospital wasn't helping and I would rather be home than stuck in a hospital bed all damn day," Darien replied as he stood up. "Now if you don't mind, I'd very much like to take a shower now."
Claire let out a sigh as she stood up and went to stand by Bobby.
"I'm gonna check up on ya in an hour, so don't try anything stupid," Bobby said, opening the door for him and Claire.
"Yeah, whatever," Darien responded, catching the towel Claire threw him and then disappeared into the bathroom.
After getting out of the shower, Darien stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, looking at his beaten and bruised up face. Then, suddenly, all his pent-up aggression was released as he slammed his fist into the mirror, shards of glass falling everywhere.
He moved his hand and looked at it. There were jagged pieces of glass imbedded in his skin and there was blood everywhere.
A couple seconds later, Darien picked the pieces of glass out of his flesh, throwing them into the sink. Then he wrapped some gauze around it and walking into the living room to watch TV.
Darien jumped when he heard a knock on the door. He was half-asleep and didn't expect any sort of loud noises.
Then he remembered that Bobby was supposed to come by so he walked to the door.
He opened it, allowing Bobby to enter. The both took a seat on the couch, Darien making sure to hide his fist.
"So how're you feeling? You look a lot better," Bobby remarked, sounding nonchalant.
"Yeah I guess so," Darien said, forgetting about his fist for a moment as he itched the side of his face with the bandaged hand.
"What happened with your hand?" Bobby asked, seeing all the blood oozing out of the already saturated bandages.
"Nothing," he said quietly, looking in the opposite direction of Bobby.
"No way, partner. We'll clean that up while you tell me what happened," Bobby demanded, making sure Darien followed him to the bathroom.
Then he saw the mirror, and the pieces of blood-covered glass in the sink.
"Well, I guess that answers THAT question," Bobby said, looking in the cupboard for more bandages.
Bobby found the needed supplies and Darien started unraveling the old ones. There were numerous deep gashed and blood everywhere.
Bobby took Darien's hand and held it under cold water, much to Darien's dismay. He gritted his teeth and tried to pull away, but Bobby's grip was too strong and he kept Darien's hand submerged.
When all the blood was washed away, he removed his hand, revealing how many cuts there actually were.
Bobby grabbed the gauze and wrapped it around Darien's fist before it could start bleeding again.
They worked silently, picking up the stray pieces of mirror in the sink, some on the ground and counter. Bobby washed his hands and they walked out to the living room.
There they sat, in silence. But after a couple minutes Darien started shaking. Bobby noticed he was breaking out in a sweat.
"Darien? What's wrong?" Bobby asked him, doing whatever he could to calm him down.
"I think I just need some beer," Darien replied, standing up.
"Oh no ya don't, pal. No more alcohol for you," Bobby said, making Darien sit back down.
"You aren't my doctor, you can't tell me what to do," Darien stated, pushing Bobby back so he could stand back up.
"Alcohol will only make you feel WORSE, and there is no way I am going to let there be a repeat of what happened a few days ago," Bobby argued, trying his best to stand face-to-face with Darien. But all that did was cause Darien to make a sound that was half laugh, half snort. He sat back down.
"All right, good," Bobby remarked sitting down next to him. "All you have to do is stay off alcohol for a few days and you should be just fine."
Darien made a growling noise and crossed his arms. "Fine. But you look a little stressed-out there, Hobbsey. Maybe you should take your pills. Ya know, before you have a stroke or something," Darien replied, smiling a little when he realized each partner was doing his best to keep the other in check.
"Right," Bobby remarked, taking a bottle of pills out of his coat pocket and popping a couple.
"Now, will you PLEASE go home? I got a lot of sleep to catch up on, and from the looks of it, so do you," Darien said, rubbing the back of his neck impulsively.
"Alright, but you call me if you need anything. Don't hesitate to do it, either," Bobby said, getting up while rubbing his eyes and heading for the door.
"See you later, partner," Darien answered, closing the door behind Bobby.
Darien started stripping most of his clothes off on the way to his bedroom. Once there, he flipped off the lights and collapsed on his bed in a dream-less slumber.