I felt the need to write. So I did. Pure stream of consciousness, pure monologue. You'll see. More angst, I warn you--Darien Fawkes has to be one of the most perfect characters for both angst and Incredibly Silly/Stupid Situations...but they definitely don't go together. Unless you actually write for the show and can do that kind of thing all at once. But for now, let's settle for the angst.
Spoilers situation: Of course I started writing this somewhere between the first and second halves of seeing "Money for Nothing." So quite frankly, I don't know exactly where this story belongs in the season--but it does make reference to the second part of MFN, so we'll assume it's after that, shall we? Me and continuity...sod it.
I Am Who I Am
"Look at me and tell who I am / why I am what I am / will I survive who will give a damn? / if no one knows who I am / Nobody knows, not even me / No one knows who I am" ~"No One Knows Who I Am," Jekyll and Hyde
"Have you ever felt like you just...didn't belong?
"I don't belong here. Where I am now...it's not my place. It's not who I am.
"But I have nowhere else to go.
"It's depressing as hell sometimes.
"So you're a shrink. You want to get inside my head, right? Why? Seriously. Why in the world would you want to get in my head? Hell, half the time I don't want to be here.
"There's too much going on in here, see. Too many thoughts whirling around. Too much junk to get through. I've done crap I'll never be able to forgive myself for...I've killed people. How can I ever justify that? I try, believe me I try, but there are days when I hate myself, really hate myself for what I've done. For who I am.
"...what I've become....?
"Have I changed that much? Am I that much different from who I used to be? I used to steal. Used to go inside people's homes, ruin their trust in their fellow humans, make them paranoid, make them scared. I did that. Now I'm supposedly on the other side, trying to make people safer. Make 'em feel secure.
"Hell. I don't even feel secure. I've got a snake wrapped around my wrist, a snake wrapped around my head. I can't trust my boss or my Keeper half the time...and between me on my bad days and my partner on his bad days, we make Captain Murdock from that old A-Team show look positively sane, coherent, and lucid.
"...Uh, forget that. What I just said, about my Keeper and stuff...please. I can't explain. Okay? It wouldn't make sense to you anyway. It doesn't make sense to me...nothing makes much sense to me at the moment.
"I don't know. I just don't know anymore. I don't know where I stand, you see. I'm stuck in this place--I can't leave now. Not without...problems. Major, serious problems. But I don't belong there. I don't fit in. It's just another con, just another game. Yeah, I'm good at those...sometimes...but I'm not comfortable shamming this. There's so much I don't know about how that place works...
"And I'm not always sure that what I'm doing is right. Ha! Me, worrying about crap like that...I used to be a thief! I guess I have changed since back then. Too much maybe? Or not enough...someone once said be careful about looking into the abyss, in case it looks back into you. I feel like I've looked into that abyss. And now it won't let me look away.
"I can't talk to anybody. I've never been good about that kind of thing. You know--talking. I feel so alone sometimes...it's just me and the world. I try to speak up, try to fight against what I think is wrong, try to fight against myself, but it's so hard. And it's so much easier to just be lazy, let things slide.
"I'm not making sense, am I? Sorry, just babbling...it's a relief, really, just to talk at you like this. A stranger, a nice impartial bystander to my life. You won't tell anyone, right? Of course not...it's just I've been through so much the past year. Done so much. My brother died, and I've killed people, and I've gone insane, and I've been shot at and kidnapped and beaten and screwed around by so many different people, including people I thought I could trust...
"Gotta stop that. I can't tell you details. It's all...classified. I hate that word.
"Things used to be simple, you know? Hell, things were simpler as a thief. Didn't matter that I was hurting people--'cos I wasn't hurting them physically, just...financially, maybe. Or something. It was a thrill. A challenge. It kept my on my toes. But it didn't matter. No one got hurt. Not in any important way.
"Now, I'm responsible for so much. My partner's life, anyone who gets stuck in the crossfire--like Kate, or Layla--hell, I'm responsible for my fricking country. Try to figure that one out. I never used to care about my country, about patriotism. I didn't ask for this. I didn't want this. Just because of this stupid gl... just because of who I am now.
"There are times when I just really wish I could chew my brother out for what he did to me. But then I remember...I can't exactly talk to him now.
"You're used to this, aren't you? All this self-doubt crap, all this soul-searching...you get it all the time. You're a psych after all. But it's still new for us, you know, your...'patients.' Well, maybe not new, exactly, but it's still our own unique pain. We're still the ones who've gotta deal with it. You just get to sit there and listen and nod your head patiently. Although, I don't know, who do you tell your problems to?
"...sorry. Not my place to ask, is it?
"I'm sick of dealing with things. I just want to give it up. I've crossed the line, I've gone too far. Way more than I should have, many times. I told you I went insane--yeah, my insanity is supposedly controllable. But this one time...I wanted to stay there. Where I was. See, nothing mattered at that point—none of it. None of my worries, fears, doubts. And I was doing some evil stuff...I felt no guilt. But afterwards...how can I deal with now with what I did? How?
"I even thought about killing myself...not often, but I did. It was a way to end it, of course. To stop the thinking. More permanent than getting drunk.
"...I can't explain. I don't know what else to say. Isn't that sad? There's too much for me to say, so I can't say any of it. I wish I could tell you more...specific details, crap like that...I wish I could be more coherent. Hell, a quote won't cover what I'm feeling right now. Nothing to sum up my situation.
"I'm the outsider. I am literally stuck in my position--I can't leave, but I don't want to stay. But I'm not sure I want to leave either...it's like...I'm chained. And they know it. That's part of the frustration--they don't trust me.
"I don't even feel like I'm living anymore. I'm just doing my 'duty,' going from one job to the next. I don't have a life anymore. I don't go anywhere, don't do anything.
"What if things had been different? What if I'd actually finished college? What if I hadn't met Liz? What if...what if Kevin hadn't been so damned smart? Or if I'd been...well, a little smarter? What then?
"What ifs are very bad for a person. They really screw you over. But then, I've been screwed over for the past year. Probably longer than that.
"Some days really are good, you know. I mean, I guess it's not all bad...I think I've gotten on Claire's good side. I don't know...I think she's learning to trust me, at last. And I think...I think I might have learned to trust her. Sometimes, anyway...and Bobby...he's actually one of the few good things I've gotten out of this mess. And I almost fucked that up, too, almost destroyed that. But he still trusts me. He forgave me. I can't believe I have a friend like that--I never have before. I trust him with my life.
"We have fun, sometimes. Joking, working together...we're good at our job. I know I keep saying I don't belong there, but sometimes it doesn't matter. My skills come in handy, my knowledge is good. It's fun sometimes--like working a puzzle, putting all the pieces together. We're good partners. We're good at what we do, together.
"But there's too many times where things go wrong. Someone gets hurt. And half the time it's me or Bobby or both of us. I'm sick of it.
"But would I be happy with...peace? In a regular job? You know, I can never go back to being a thief. Not after this. But what will I do after this? What can I do after this; what am I good for? What if...what if there isn't an 'after this'? The Official might not let me go...or I might just die. And who would care then? I'm as good as invisible these days. I don't matter beyond my job.
"Where do I stand?
"Who am I?
"Oh crap. Oh god. Uh...look at the time. I've gotta go, I'm already late. Uh...you know what? Just...forget everything. Never mind. Please. It doesn't matter. I don't know why I came here, I'm sorry for wasting your time...just forget all about this. Please. Okay? Really, it doesn't matter. Thanks...uh, yeah. Bye...and uh, thanks for listening. Really. It... helped.
"Yeah...no, I'll see myself out. Sorry about this...good-bye. Like I said, forget I said anything."
"Oh no I've said too much...I haven't said enough..." ~"Losing My Religion," REM