Sorry this one took a little longer, crazy week. This chapter is dedicated to all of my millions of readers. How many of you are there anyway?

"Killing Dreams"

A week after the Keeper had put Red's monitor in, Red and Darien were sitting in the corner booth of Costa's having breakfast. Darien's coffee was sitting on the table, long since forgotten, "It is possible to go Quicksilver mad. I've done it. I told the Keeper that if it ever happened again, I didn't want counteragent. I wanted a bullet." Red quietly sucked Tiramisu off her spoon, "What are you telling me Dare? Are you trying to say that you'd do the same for me? Or are you telling me you want me to do the same for you?" Darien scratched his head, "Both, I think." Red sighed heavily, "Okay. My turn, I guess. I've been having dreams Darien." Darien smiled lopsidedly, "Dreams of fame and fortune?" Red shook her head and set her spoon down, "No. Killing dreams." Darien was suddenly serious, "About who?" Red closed her eyes, "Keep, Hobbes. You."
"When you say me, do you mean that I have a cameo appearance?" Red opened her eyes again, "I'd say more of a starring role."
"Ah crap. Lemmie see your monitor." Red laid her left arm across the table, "It's still green. The same as it's been all day. I've been checking it every few minutes. Anyhow, I had a shot yesterday." Darien looked at it anyway, "Still green. When I went over the edge and failed in killing Hobbes, I tried to kill myself." Red smiled, "Wouldn't work for me, I'm too stubborn to die." She rubbed her wrist, removing a thin layer of foundation and revealing a hairline scar, "I know from experience." Darien ran his finger lightly across the scar, "You slit your wrist?" Red nodded, "Both of them. Twice. Before that it was an overdose of aspirin."
"Aspirin?"
"It was all we had in the house. It's not a pleasant experience to have your stomach pumped at the ripe old age of fifteen." Darien was shocked, "Fifteen? When was the wrist slitting?"
"Seventeen and eighteen. The second time the doctors said that I'd lost enough blood that by all rights I should've died. I didn't though, and right after that I had the gland implanted in my head." Darien shook his head in puzzlement, "What happened to you that would make you attempt suicide?"
"I don't remember. All I remember is that I tried." Darien realized that his fingers were still touching Red's wrist, he quickly moved them, "So, in these dreams, how do I die?" Red ticked points off on her fingers, "Gunshot, strangulation, gutting." Darien made a disgusted face, "Gutting? With what?" Red flexed the fingers of her left hand.
"You gut me barehanded?" Darien asked incredulously. Red nodded slowly.
"Nobody's fingers are that strong."
"Mine are." Darien snorted, "Prove it."
"Give me your spoon."
"You have your own spoon."
"I know, but I can make a better point if I use yours." Darien wiped off his spoon with his napkin and handed it to Red. She took it and bent it down the middle of the bowl, across the line of the handle, with the index finger and thumb of her left hand. She held it up by the handle, "Proof enough for you?"
"Yeah."
"Good, now let's pay our tab and get out of here. Keep wanted us at the lab early today."

Will Red's dreams come true? Who will she really try to kill? Will she tell anyone else that she's having dreams? Will Darien? Why did she try to commit suicide on three separate occasions?

The answers to these (and any other) burning questions will be answered in future Issue-sodes of 'The Girl Called Red'
Because YOU want to know
If anyone wants anything revealed, just ask. I'll let you know.