Darien slowly realized that he was awake and stretched under the covers. He groaned as he thought he felt the bright happy sun beating down on his face. He did not want to get up and meet the beautiful day. He was angry and depressed. He heard a slight rumbling that he recognized as thunder. `So maybe my estimate of the day wasn't quite right,' he thought with a slight smile. He could face a bleary day with no problem. In fact, it fit his mood perfectly. He half-fell, half-crawled out of bed and stumbled drunkenly towards the shower. Ignoring the sounds Mike was making puttering around in the kitchen, he shivered slightly as his bare feet met the cold chill of the bathroom tiles.
He silently closed the door and felt his way to the side of the tub. He reached for the faucet but over shot and had to slide his had back until the encountered the cold metal. He slid his fingers across the straight lines etched into the knob and turned on the hot water. He dangled his other hand beneath the warming water until it began to burn his hand. He found the knob with the circular etching and slowly increased the flow of cold water until the temperature was perfect. He flicked the switch to shower and carefully deposited himself into the tub without falling and breaking his neck. It was not until he was seated in the middle of the tub under the flow of water that he realized he had not taken any clothes off and had been naked the entire time. Shaking his head at his magnificent powers of observation, he began to methodically scrub himself. Taking a shower while seated was not the easiest thing to do in the world but it was better than a bath and better than falling down when he lost his balance.
He felt almost human again when he got out of the shower. He walked out of the bathroom the same way he walked in not caring that Mike might see him in his birthday suit. He pulled on a pair of boxers and plopped down on his bed. Getting dressed used to be so much fun. He had had his own unique style that not everyone had been able to appreciate. His clothes matched his moods. Like his hair, they reflected him. Again like his hair, they were now tailored to fit Mike's tastes. Most of the times he did not mind. He could no longer see to fix his hair and it had been getting harder to tame. The same had gone for his clothes. Mike had threatened to burn his clothes if he did not let Mike go out and buy him some more appropriate ones. Now everything Darien owned matched perfectly with everything else. It was boring and unimaginative. He added it to the list of things in his life that were controlled by other people. He pulled out a shirt and pants and slipped them on him.
By the time Darien sat down for breakfast, the thunder had faded away leaving light showers. He ate uncomplainingly clearing everything Mike put on his plate. The other man tried to maintain light conversation but finally gave-up. Although he felt more human, Darien was still not in the best of moods and he did not feel like meaningless chatter. After breakfast he tried to help with the dishes but Mike shooed him away. Left with nothing to do he fetched his headphones and sat down to listen to Robert Jordan. Two hours later bored and unable to listen to another word, he ventured outside into the rain.
Sitting down on the rough wooden steps, he turned his face skyward. He stuck out his tongue to catch the falling rain drops. He laughed as they pit-pattered against his face trickling down his cheeks. He could smell the wet dirt and imagined the worms that must the crawling out onto the sidewalks. He listened to the sounds of cars passing in front of the house and the meowing of a neighbor's cat. Mostly he listened to the sound of the rain hitting the leaves and the roof. `God, I love the rain,' he thought to himself.
Quickly his thoughts turned to last night. He was not sure what to think about his conversation with Mike. In a way it was a relief to get some of that in the open but at the same time it scared him to have some of those feelings voiced. He wondered if Mike was right and he had been trying to kill himself without actually well killing himself. He knew that he was not happy with the way things were but he did not know how he could change things. In some ways this was worse than with the gland because now he was helpless. He was a liability. He had nothing to contribute to anything. He was worthless. At least before the Agency needed him. He did not know how much longer he could have lived with the constant danger that he might go insane and harm someone. Sooner or later he would have hurt Hobbes or Claire or some innocent kid and he would have ended the problem right then and there. In that way this was a thousand times better. He was still chained to the Agency. He still had Bobby and now he had Mike. Both had their ups and downs.
If he had to make the choice over again, he would pick the same one. The world was safer without the gland in his brain so it did not matter if he was happy with the results or not. He wished there was something he could do about it. He did not need the Agency for money. He had the money from Kevin's patents and from his aunt's estate. He did not know what he would do if he left the Agency. He'd have to go on the run and there was no way he could do that in his condition. No, he was going to stay with the Agency until they decided to let him go. He did not have anyone to go to anyway. There were only two people he really trusted. One was Mike and the other was Bobby and they were both firmly attached to the Agency.
"Are you coming in for lunch?" asked Mike coming up behind Darien.
"No, I think I'll stay out here," replied Darien breaking out of his thoughts.
"Well, you're going to eat." A moment later Mike returned with a sandwich and an apple. Obediently Darien took a bite and began to chew. He focused on biting and chewing until the food was gone.
It was the little things that Darien missed being able to do most. He might could handle making his own sandwich but Mike had never let him try. He would like to be able to wash the dishes and make his bed. He wanted to write his own letters and read his own books not listening to someone else read aloud. He wanted to be able to walk to the mailbox without falling down. He wanted so much and he feared that he would never get any of it.