Remember My Name

by Brandywine421

Darien goes through a stressful identity crisis......................

Author:  Brandywine421

Rating:  PG-13  

Spoilers:  Don't know, not many since I haven't seen all the eppy's

Disclaimer:  I don't own these characters, they belong to sci-fi.

           

Darien Fawkes rolls over in his bed with a yawn followed by a groan.  His covers are lying on the floor beside the bed and his arm is cramped from being a pillow.  He is damp with sweat.  The damned nightmares usually wake him up, but sometimes he simply sleeps through them, wakes up with a ball of fear in his gut, and drenched in sweat.  He is exhausted.  He spent the night before on a stakeout with his partner, Robert Hobbes, and only arrived home at four in the morning with no new clues on the elusive Chrysalis.  The stakeout culminated with a confrontation with several of Chrysalis' goons.  Darien took a reasonable beating before backup arrived but he was so exhausted that he convinced his partner to take him home for sleep instead of to the Keeper.  He managed to fall asleep around five, woke up at six and seven with flashes of his past on his mind and then actually rested for about two hours. 

            His phone is ringing.  He answers it.

            "Hello?"

            "Fawkes, its ten o'clock."

            "So?"  Darien replies.

            "So, you were supposed to be at work an hour ago.  Get your ass in gear," His partner sighs.  "The Keeper is flipping out.  How's your tattoo?"

            Darien glances at his wrist and sees two segments still green.  "I'm on my way."  He hangs up the phone and hops in the shower.  His head starts to ache as he massages the shampoo into his hair.  He doesn't dry his hair and style it as he usually does; he gingerly pulls on a pair of dirty jeans and a t-shirt and tosses his jacket over his shoulder.  Every movement brings pain.   

He had hoped that the darkening bruises would feel better after a hot shower, but they feel worse.  His knee is swollen and throbbing unless he puts weight on it, which brings sharp pains.  He has a harsh scrape down one side of his face and one of his eyes is black and swollen.  The worst pain comes from his chest.  As he sits in his car, out of breath, he thinks that he might have some cracked ribs or something. 

He arrives at the Agency at about ten-thirty. 

"Damn, partner!  You better go see the Keeper," Hobbes says, standing by the door as he comes in. 

"Why?  Do I look as bad as I feel?"  Darien asks.

"I hope not, you look like hell."

Darien starts to limp toward the Keep.

"How'd you take such a beating and not say anything?"  Hobbes asks, trying to help him down the hall.

Darien shakes off his assistance.  "It didn't hurt this much last night.  I was too tired."  He holds out his wrist and shows two segments green.  "I didn't notice that either.  My head is killing me."

            "Darien, you are pushing it too far.  What if you had went quicksilver mad on your way over here?"  Claire, his keeper scolds him, her back to the door as they enter the lab.

            "Then maybe someone would have the good sense to put me out of my misery," He jokes, dryly.    

            She doesn't turn.

            "I was joking, Claire."

            Bobby looks at him, too.  "You've been joking about stuff like that a lot more lately.  How are you sleeping?"

            Darien sighs.  "Fine.  You?"

            Claire sighs.  "Darien, I'm your doctor.  I can tell that you're not yourself lately.  Bobby asked a good question."

            "I said I'm fine," Darien replies.  Sometimes he feels like telling her about the nightmares and the deep depression he feels reaching for him, but not today.  He's tired and sore.  He doesn't feel like talking to anyone.

            Claire finally turns around.  "God!  Bobby, why didn't you bring him in last night?"

            "I wanted to sleep, that's why.  Can I have some aspirin or something?"  Darien asks, sitting down carefully in the 'demented dentist chair'.

            "Or something," She replies.  She looks at his wrist and starts to prepare a shot of counteragent.  "What hurts?"

            "What doesn't hurt would be a better question…" He looks at Hobbes.  "Why aren't you all bruised and coughing blood?"

            "Because it was your turn to go in the front, remember?"  Hobbes frowns and looks to Claire.  "Can you give Mr. Whiny his shot so he'll stop complaining?"

            "Bite me," Darien sighs.

            "You're coughing blood?"  Claire asks, prepping his arm.

            "A little.  Damn."  He winces as she pierces his arm with the needle. 

            "Now that you've got your fix…" Bobby starts.

            "You're pushing it today, Hobbes.  I'm entirely too tired for your shit," Darien snaps.

            "Bobby, go outside so I can examine Darien," Claire interjects. 

            Darien watches the pouting Bobby leave the room and instantly feels better as the counteragent gets into his system. 

            "You really should have called me last night, Darien," Claire scolds.

            "I thought a little sleep would do me better than a lot of poking."

            "Take off your shirt.  You're not sleeping, are you?" Claire asks.

            "I did last night.  Why is everybody suddenly so concerned about my nighttime habits?"  Darien questions.  He gingerly pulls at his shirt.  Finally, Claire helps him remove it.  His chest is dark with bruising.

            "Tell me when it hurts."

            "Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow.  Ow."  He says, every time she touches him.

            "You've got some bruised ribs, it doesn't feel like anything worse.  Anything else hurt?"

            "My knee," Darien concedes.  Claire helps him replace his shirt.

            "We're concerned about your nighttime habits because you haven't been yourself lately.  You're depressed and we can tell.  You always look tired, Darien, and you aren't asking for help and that's dangerous," Claire explains.

            "Don't worry, if I decide to off myself, I'll be sure and shoot myself in the chest so I don't damage the gland," Darien replies, quietly.

            Claire stops looking at his knee and stands up to look at his face.  "Darien, its not like…"

            "Sorry, I was just trying to lighten the mood," He lies. 

            Claire sighs.  "Probably a deep bruise.  The swelling should go down in a few days.  I'm sending you home for some rest.  I want you to lie down and keep ice on this knee."

            "Anything you say, Keepie," Darien replies.

            "I'm prescribing you something for the pain."  Claire looks at him carefully before handing him a prescription bottle.  "Darien, about this other stuff,"

            "Don't worry, Keepie.  I'm fine."  Darien takes the bottle and hobbles into the hall.  She looks after him, concerned. 

            Darien knocks on Bobby's door. 

            "Keepie is sending me home."

            Bobby nods.  "I can't say that I blame her.  You get some rest, kid."

            Darien nods.  "Sorry about this morning," He starts.

            Hobbes waves it off.  "You're always cranky before your shot, forget about it.  Get some sleep."

            Darien makes it home before the pills kick in.  He collapses on his bed in a heap. 

            He wakes up several hours later, surrounded by strangers.  He tries to struggle through the painkillers' fog but he feels a prick in his neck, and returns to blackness.

**********

            "Bobby?  Do you have time to swing by and check on Fawkes?  He's not answering his phone."

            "You worried, Keepie?"  Bobby asks, his radar switching on alert.

            "He's probably just sleeping, but with Darien, you never know.  I'm not sure he would call me if the pain gets worse or something, you know?"  Claire tries to hide her worry.

**********

            Darien comes to and tries to sit up.  He is strapped tightly to a bed.  He can't see anything because of a bright light over his bed. 

            "Good morning, Mr. Fawkes.  Welcome to your training," A voice booms.

            "What training?  Where am I?"  Darien asks.  He starts to struggle but with every movement, the straps tighten.  He realizes that the pain in his chest is due to a thick strap across it that squeezes his bruised ribs as he struggles.  He cries out in pain as the strap constricts.

            "Home.  You are home," The voice booms.

            Darien hears a recording start.  "What is your name?" 

            "What?"  Darien asks, confused.  A jolt of electricity pulses through his body.  He screams.

            "You have no name," The recording answers.

            The electricity stops and Darien manages to take a breath. 

            "What is your name?" 

            "Darien Fawkes," Darien answers.

            The second shock lasts a few seconds longer but Darien doesn't scream this time. 

            "You have no name."

            Darien feels like he is going to die.  The pain is worse than anything he has ever felt, worse that pre-QSM, worse than being shot, it is excruciating.  The shocks go on for hours, or days, he isn't sure. 

            At first, he prays for rescue, then he prays for death.

**********

            Bobby Hobbes hasn't slept in two days.  Darien has been missing for too long and he fears the worst.  Anyone could have harvested the gland by now, but something tells Bobby that he is still alive.  Bobby has to believe that he is still alive. 

            He is waiting outside of Stark's office.  He doesn't expect much information, but he hopes that his instincts will let him know if Chrysalis is involved with Fawkes' disappearance.  He refuses to believe, as Claire does, that Fawkes has done away with himself.  Hobbes hopes that Darien is stronger than that. 

            "Agent Hobbes.  What an unpleasant surprise," Stark greets him. 

            "Hello, Stark."  Bobby notices that Stark does not mention his absent partner.  Hobbes has never met with Stark without Darien's presence. 

            'What do I owe this visit?"

            "Where's Fawkes?"  Hobbes demands.

            "Who?"  Stark asks, innocently.

            "Fawkes.  Darien Fawkes.  You know damn well who I'm talking about."

            Stark smiles.  "We don't have anyone here by that name.  Goodbye, Agent Hobbes." 

            Bobby leaves.  He calls the Agency from the street.  "Stark's got him."

**********

            Darien gives in on the third day.  He doesn't remember how long he has been in the place of pain, but time means nothing to him.  The voice still administers the shocks, but it was the drugs that finally got him.  He was blindfolded, a slight relief from the bright light, and they injected him with painful drugs.  His body felt like it was on fire.  He hallucinated, or he hoped they were hallucinations, of blood and death and carnage.  He hasn't spoken since the last injection.  He hasn't slept since he arrived, every time he dozes off, a jolt of electricity speeds up his heart again. 

            He has no name.

**********

            "They've had him a week, boss.  There's no telling what they've done to him!"  Hobbes sighs, frustrated and exhausted by his search.

            "We're doing all we can," The Official replies.  Eberts rushes into the office.

            "We've found him.  We're assembling a team now."

            "Bobby," The Official says, as Hobbes starts to rush out.  "I want you on the second wave.  Miss Monroe will lead the initial strike."
            "What?" 

            "You heard me.  You're too close, too involved.  Alex will secure the area and then you will lead the second team in.  No mistakes.  I want you to bring Fawkes back in one piece.  Go."  The Official lets out a long sigh after the two agents leave. 

**********

            On the fourth day, they let him out of bed.  He was blindfolded and shoved into a room.  When he pulled the blindfold off, he was naked.  A shower from the ceiling doused him with cold water.  Next, the freezing water came from all sides, the pressurized water bruising his pale skin with its force.  Finally, he was retrieved, shivering and humiliated.  They dressed him and collared his neck, wrists, and ankles.  He was placed in the center of a bright room.  Whenever he would take a step or shift his weight, he was shocked by the collars.  He was forced to stand at attention for hours, immobile.  Finally, when his legs gave out.  He lay on the floor, electricity running through his body for several minutes before the collars were deactivated. 

            He was taken to another room and seated at a table.  He smelled food.  He hadn't eaten since his arrival.  A masked man dressed in white brought a tray into the room.  He said, "Eat."

            Darien was surprised to see all his favorite foods.  He ate everything on the tray.  As soon as he was finished, the man revealed a needle.  He injected Darien's arm with the needle and within minutes, Darien was nauseous.  He threw up everything.  The man brought more food out.  Darien ate, as ordered, and once again, was forced to throw up.  He lost count of how many times they made him binge and purge.  Finally, they returned him to the original bed.

            "What is your name?"
            "I have no name," Darien replied. 

**********

            "We're in.  Hobbes, you're on.  The area is secure, go find Fawkes," Alex Monroe says into the walkie-talkie.

            Hobbes leads his team into the building.  Claire is at the tail end of the group, in case a doctor is required. 

            Bobby gets a chill outside the third room they prepare to search.  He enters a small room and sees several television screens and a large collection of surveillance tapes.  He orders an agent to confiscate them as he opens the interior door. 

            "Fawkes."  He sighs, seeing the figure on the bed.  He rushes to his partner.

            Darien is staring, glassy-eyed at the ceiling. 

            "Fawkes?  Darien?"  Bobby tries to get a reaction, but Fawkes is unresponsive.  He is gaunt and pale and his usually bright brown eyes are dull.  Claire stands beside Bobby.

            "Darien?"  She says, touching his hand.  Darien flinches, shrinking from her touch.  "What did they do to you?"  She whispers, in horror.  She helps Bobby unstrap him from the bed, noting the strange sensors under the straps.  Once freed, Darien curls into the fetal position.

            "Claire, what…" Bobby starts.

            "I don't know," She replies, tears in her eyes.

**********

            The surveillance tapes reveal the week of torture and brainwashing that Darien has suffered.  Claire started crying with the first tape and did not stop. 

            Darien is catatonic in the Keep.  Claire inserted an I.V. to try to get him some nutrients since he is severely malnourished. 

            Bobby stands beside Darien, pensive.  He turns to Claire.  "You know, I knew some people in P.O.W. camps that talked about stuff like this, but I never thought that anyone would still do it.  Fawkes…Look at him, Claire.  Is he even in there?"

            Claire sighs.  "I have to think so."

            She leans over Darien.  "Darien?  Darien, its Claire.  Do you know who I am?"   

            Darien blinks, but does not meet her eyes.

            "Darien, come on, you know me.  It's Claire!  Darien?"  She tries.

            "I have no name," Darien whispers.

            "You do have a name!"  Bobby says, getting upset.  "Darien Fawkes, your name is Darien Fawkes!"

            Darien doesn't speak, but a tear falls from one of his eyes. 

            Bobby and Claire take turns staying with him and talking to him. 

            Bobby is sleeping a few days after his rescue.  Darien realizes that he has been without pain for a while.  He has retreated inside himself, but he decides to risk an excursion. 

            Darien carefully sits up.  He is free, not attached to his bed, without collars.  He pulls the I.V. from his arm.  He steps down from the bed.  His muscles are stiff from disuse.  He recognizes the room, but cannot place it.  He glances around, scared, but finally gets the courage to take a few steps.  He goes to a nearby water pitcher and pours a little into a cup.

            Bobby stirs and sees Darien standing. 

            "Darien."

            He winces.  He shrinks away, dropping the water.  He presses himself against a wall.

            "Darien, its okay," Bobby carefully approaches him.

            "I'm sorry.  I'm sorry."  Darien apologizes, expecting punishment.  He doesn't know what he did that was wrong, but he has learned that the pain is an inevitability.

            "No, no, Darien, its me, Bobby.  Remember?  Hobbes?"

            Darien vaguely recognizes the man but he is too conditioned to fear to let his guard down.  "I'm sorry."

            "No, no, its okay, buddy.  You want some water?"  Bobby offers him a cup of water.  Claire enters and watches from a distance.

            "Come on, take it," Bobby says, offering it to him gently.

            Darien carefully accepts it.  He drinks it all, and passes the cup back to Bobby. 

            "Do you remember me, Darien?  Bobby Hobbes.  Your partner."  Hobbes tries to hide his excitement.

            Darien tries to remember.  "Hobbes."

            "You remember?"  Bobby asks.

            Darien blinks.  "Hobbes.  You taking your meds?"  His eyes are clear for a moment.

            Bobby smiles, elated.  "Without you to remind me?  Never."

            Darien slowly slips down the wall until he is seated on the floor.  Claire approaches them.  Darien shudders.

            "Darien?  It's Claire, you're safe here.  Okay?  Do you trust me?"  She kneels near him. 

            Darien slowly calms down.  "Claire.  The Keeper."
            Claire smiles.  "Yeah, the Keeper."

            Darien timidly holds out his wrist to reveal his tattoo.  "I…I didn't go invisible…I had to fight…to control it…but I didn't use…any quicksilver…"  He glances around, cautious of his punishment. 

            Claire smiles.  "You did good, Darien."  She squeezes his hand.  He returns her squeeze, then freezes.  He pulls his hand back and seems to be frightened.       

            "Do you want to get back into bed?"  Claire asks.

            "Whatever you want me to do," Darien replies.  He puts his arms around his knees, protectively.

            "No, Darien, you're safe, we're not going to hurt you.  Are you hungry?  Do  you think you can eat?"  Bobby asks.  Claire is worried about him not eating solid food. 

            Darien looks up.

            "Yeah, buddy, food!"  Bobby grins.

            Darien smiles slowly for the first time.  "Bobby."

            "Fawkes, I'm going to get something for you to eat while you talk to the keeper.  Okay?"  Bobby slowly backs away.

            Darien nods.  He watches Bobby leave.

            "Darien?  Can you get back into bed for me?"

            Darien nods.  He lets her help him to his feet.  "Can I…Can I sit up for a while?"  He asks, timid.

            "Of course, Darien.  I just want to get you off the floor.  Here.  Sit down."  She leads him to a seat.

            "Do you know where you are?"  Claire asks, gently.

            Darien glances around.  Claire sees his eyes becoming clearer.  "In the Keep."

            "Good.  What's your name?"  She asks, quietly.

            He opens his mouth to answer, but then closes it quickly. 

            "Darien Fawkes," She says.  "What's your name?"

            Darien closes his eyes.  "I have no name," He recites.

            "No.  Your name is Darien Fawkes.  You're safe now," Claire urges. 

            Darien puts his head in his hands, in anguish.  "I don't know what you want me to do…"

            "No, Darien, I don't want you to do anything, okay?  Calm down."  She takes his hands and tries to comfort him.  His brown eyes are pools of sadness.

            Bobby returns with several bags of food.  She finds Claire sitting across from Fawkes. 

            "How you doing, Fawkes?"  Bobby asks.  Darien flinches.  "I got you some food."

            "Do you want…um…a taco?  A burger?  Fries?  A turkey sandwich?"  Bobby pulls a variety of food from the bags.

            The smell of food instantly makes Darien nauseous.  He pales and starts to tremble.

            "Maybe we're moving too fast," Claire whispers to Bobby.

            Darien puts his face in his hands, trying to organize his thoughts.  He remembers these people, but it feels like years since he's seen them.  The only thing that matters is the pain.  He doesn't want the pain to return and he'll do anything to keep it away.  These people, Bobby and Claire, they say that they aren't going to hurt him but the pain always comes.  He has to decide whether to trust the feelings he remembers about these people or to return inside himself where the pain cannot reach him. 

            "Darien?"  Claire asks.

            "Give me a few minutes, Keepie.  Let me think," Darien says.  He realizes that he is in a different environment.  He decides to take a chance.

            Slowly, his shaking subsides.  He lowers his hands and takes a French fry.  He pops it in his mouth and chews slowly. 

            "Yum," He says, unconvincingly.

            "Not hungry?"  Bobby asks.

            Darien shrugs.  "I don't know."

            "You don't know if you're hungry?"  Bobby asks.

            "I don't know," Darien says, sadly.

            Bobby shivers involuntarily.  He sees the shell of a man in front of him, but he doesn't see any remnant of the man he knows as Darien Fawkes.

            Claire squeezes Bobby's arm, reassuringly.  "Darien, its okay."

            Darien shakes his head.  "Its not okay…I've been…in some place…without people…only pain…and …being here…with you…is…disorienting?"  Darien tries to explain. 

            "It's okay, Darien," Claire starts to say that they saw the tapes, but she stops herself.  She remember how Darien used to feel about being a lab rat and she knows he will not appreciate his degradation being watched by his friends. 

            "Darien, what can we do for you?"  Bobby asks.

            Darien looks at him, blankly.  "This is all a trick, isn't it?"  He starts to panic.  "Its all a trick…Bobby never calls me Darien…" He looks around for escape.  Claire reaches out to him.  She takes his wrists, trying to calm him. 

            "Its not a trick, Darien, he's just worried about you, you have to trust us," Claire says.

            "No, no,  its not real…" Darien jerks his hands away. 

            "I'll never let you have my soul, you bastards…" He says, curling into a ball and returning inside himself. 

            His brown eyes glaze over and Claire and Bobby watch him return to catatonia. 

            "The bastards," Bobby curses.  "We were so close, and I fucked it up."

            "Its not your fault.  He's scared.  We just have to find a way to get him to trust us," Claire sighs.  Bobby helps her carry Darien back to the bed.  She replaces his I.V.

            They wait. 

**********

            The Official is standing over Darien when the Keeper returns from home the next morning. 

            "Sir?"  Claire asks, and the Official jumps, startled.

            "He was always so rebellious, so bull-headed.  He never listened to a single order that I gave him.  I mean, I would have loved for him to be a more obedient agent, but at least he got the job done.  But this…what they've done to him…I just don't understand it."  The Official is clearly upset.  "They've broken his spirit."

            "Sir," Claire isn't sure how to comfort him. 

            "Claire, I want you to do whatever you can to bring him back."  He turns and walks to the door.  "And don't tell anyone what I said, that's an order."

            Claire sighs.  Darien looks worse than when she left him.  His blank stare is focused on the ceiling above him.  She knows that regardless of the Official's feelings, if there isn't a change in Darien's condition, that the order will come down to remove the gland.  She knows that she will quit before she performs that surgery, but she doesn't see a change in his future.  She is unsure if he will ever be back to normal or functional in society again.  Darien is not a soldier or a trained agent; he is basically a civilian who suffered through awful mind-control torture.  As she thinks back to his state of mind before the abduction, she is very disturbed.  Darien may not want to live anymore. 

            Claire doesn't realize when she starts to cry.  She is sobbing over Darien's bed.

            Darien hears crying.  Slowly, he realizes that it is not him that's crying.  No one has cried for him in a long time.  He doesn't want to come out.  He doesn't want to return to the place with the pain, the physical pain and the mental pain.  Out there, Kevin is dead, he is in constant fear of madness, and he is in constant danger.  But someone is crying. 

            Claire sobs.  She feels arms encircle her and she continues to cry.   She opens her eyes and realizes that Darien is holding her against his chest, tightly.

            "Darien," She chokes.

            "Don't cry for me…why are you crying for me?"  He asks, his voice weak.

            She tries to catch her breath.  "Because you're my friend.  I care about you.  I want you to come back."

            He holds her close.  "I don't know if I can come back…the pain…"

            "You're safe now, Darien.  You're with friends.  Please," She cries because she doesn't know how he will react. 

            Darien is torn.  It is peaceful in his mind.  He is whole.  He knows that it's not real, but he doesn't hurt.  He wants the pain to end but something about this woman makes him want to try again.

            "You're safe, Darien.  I won't let anyone hurt you," Claire says, clinging to him. 

            Darien slowly releases her, so he can look into her eyes.  "You promise?"

            Claire nods.  "I promise."

            He nods.  "And you'll stop crying?"

            She smiles.  "I'll stop crying." 

            Darien sighs.  "Okay."  He looks around.  He starts to tremble.  "Wow…wow."

            "What is it?"  Claire asks, immediately concerned.

            "Oh…it's just been a while since I've…been out…out here.  I feel like I've been on a trip.  You know what I want to do?"  He looks at Claire.

            "What?"  She asks.  She is secretly elated, but she is unsure of how long Darien's clarity and sense of safety will last.

            "Smoke a cigarette."  He smiles slightly.  "I haven't smoked a cigarette in fifteen years."

            "I'm not sure if I can clear that.  Maybe after you have a meal," She suggests.

            Darien winces.  "I think I could eat something, but I'm not sure if I could keep it down."

            "Do you remember what happened to you?"  She asks, cautious.

            Darien nods slowly.  "I don't have to talk about it, do I?  I have a feeling that you know what happened."

            She nods. 

            He swings his long legs over the bed to the floor.  "How long have I been here?"

            Claire looks at her clipboard.  "A few days.  You were awake yesterday, but you got…a little freaked out."

            Darien seems to be thinking.  "Oh.  My head's a little fucked up right now."

            Claire puts down her board.  "Darien, when you were awake before…you weren't as clear as you are now…what happened?"

            He rubs his head.  "I don't know.  Even when…when I was in that place, I would try to zone out, to keep my sanity or something, just to escape.  Sometimes, my control would slip and I would scream and yell, and I would know exactly who I was, I would remember everything.  Other times, I would kind of fade-in and not exactly know what was happening.  Like yesterday."

            "It's okay.  You've been through a terrible trauma," Claire says. 

            Darien glances around.  "Where's Hobbes?"

            "I sent him home.  He's been hovering over your bed since you got here.  He needed some rest," Claire admits. 

            Darien nods.  Suddenly, he winces and doubles up in pain.

            "Darien, what is it?"  She asks, worried.

            "God…my stomach is cramping…oh…okay…that's better…" He gets some color back and sits back up.  "Maybe I should try to eat something."

            Claire turns and dials Eberts from the Keep's phone.  She tells him to bring some soft foods, like soup and oatmeal.  When she turns around, Darien is gone.

            "Darien?" 

            He reappears on the edge of the bed.  "Sorry.  I had to make sure it still worked.  I haven't tried it in a while.  Good news for the 'Fish'." 

            She frowns at him.  "We're more concerned about you right now."

            "Bullshit, since when?"  He smiles. 

            Bobby Hobbes walks into the Keep, looking depressed.  "Hey, Claire.  Any change?"  He doesn't notice Darien until he is standing right beside him.

            "Hey partner," Darien says.

            Bobby's face lights up.  "Damn, when did this happen?"

            "Claire asked me very nicely if I wanted to come out and play," Darien says with a straight face.  Bobby stares at him.  Then he starts to laugh.

            Darien smiles widely.

            Claire gets a twinge of doubt about Darien's good mood.  After seeing him the day before, she is worried about his state of mind. 

            "I'm going to ask you a few questions, okay?"  Claire asks.

            Darien nods.

            "What is your name?"

            He freezes.  Claire and Bobby look at each other.

            "Sorry.  Darien Fawkes.  That didn't used to be such a hard question," He says after a pause.  "My name is Darien Fawkes."

            Claire allows herself to smile. 

            "Its really good to hear you say that, kid," Bobby smiles.

            Darien sighs.  Eberts comes in with a tray of different bowls. 

            "Here's what you requested."  Eberts smiles slightly at Darien.

            "Hey, Ebes," Darien says.

            "Good to see you up and about, Darien," Eberts replies.

            "The Official docked my pay didn't he?"  Darien jokes, without a smile.

            "Of course he did," Eberts smiles. 

            Claire looks over the selection.  "This is fine, Eberts.  Darien, you feel like some chicken soup?"

            "Not really, but I'll try it."  Darien takes the bowl with shaking hands. 

            "You want me to hold it for you?"  Bobby offers.

            He shakes his head.  "I've got it, I think."  He closes his eyes for a moment and they see his lips move slightly.  He stops shaking.  He opens his eyes and starts to spoon the broth into his mouth slowly.

            Claire glances at Bobby.  "Darien, did you just pray?"

            Darien snorts.  "To a god who just put me through hell?  No.  I just tried to calm myself.  Like Kevin taught me."  He continues eating his soup.

            Eberts excuses himself.  Bobby and Claire watch Darien eat his soup.

            "I had a friend who used to go nuts when people watched her eat.  She got into at least twenty fights in restaurants where she said people were staring at her," Darien says. 

            Bobby and Claire take the hint and look away. 

            "Here.  All done."  He hands the bowl to Claire. 

            "How do you feel?"  She asks.

            Darien flinches.  It has been a long time since anyone asked him that.  He isn't sure that he can trust again.  He is trying to relax, because he has decided that if this is all a trick, it is too late for him to escape the inevitable pain.  If it's not a trick, then he has nothing to lose.  Besides, he has a plan.

            "I'm okay.  Not completely nauseous yet, just a little," He admits.  He hops down off the bed and stretches slowly.  He glances at Claire, then pulls the I.V. from his arm. 

            "Do you think I could go outside for a little while?"  He asks, looking to Claire for permission.  "It's been a while since I saw the sun."

            Bobby offers to walk him outside.

            Darien winces at the bright sunlight.  He takes a deep breath of car exhaust. 

            "Man, I'm glad to see you walking around," Hobbes admits.

            Darien nods.  "I've been out of it for a while.  I'm still a little out of it.  How'd you guys find me?"

            "We figured out that Chrysalis had you.  Eberts did some fancy computer hacking and found your location," Hobbes explains.

            Darien is silent.  Finally, he asks quietly, "What took you so long?"

            Bobby sighs as he tries to think of a response.

            "I'm getting kind of tired.  Lets go back in," Darien says.  He leads Bobby back into the Keep.

            "That was quick," Claire remarks. 

            No one sees Darien coat the small scalpel with quicksilver. "I'm getting a little tired."  He sits on the bed.

            "Do you want to try and eat a little more before you go back to sleep?"  Claire offers.

            Darien shakes his head.  "The soup is already threatening to escape.  I better not.  You guys look like you need some rest, too."

            Bobby yawns in reply.

            Darien lies down and pulls the sheet around his shoulders.  "You guys better get some rest.  When I wake up I'm going to want to go home and you know how stubborn I am."  He closes his eyes.

            Bobby decides to go home and rest since Darien is doing so well. Claire sits down at her computer to work, but she soon falls asleep, her head against the keyboard.

            As soon as Darien hears Claire's soft breathing, he cautiously sits up.  He desilvers the scalpel.  He is tired.  Even before his capture, he felt as if he had nothing to live for.  Now, he doesn't even know who he is.  Claire and Bobby are treating him great, they are acting like they care, but he doesn't know if they are sincere.  He doesn't know anything anymore.  He doesn't know when or where the pain will come from, he just knows it will come.  Darien is tired. 

            He presses the blade into the flesh of his wrist.  He hopes that death will come quickly.  The pain is mild compared to the previous week's.  Blood starts to pour from his exposed vein.  His sheet soaks up some of it, but soon, it starts to drip onto the floor.  As he slices his other wrist, clumsily with his left hand, he drops the scalpel. 

            Claire hears the slight sound and stirs.  Darien doesn't notice.  He lies down, hanging his hands off the bed to aid the blood flow.  He closes his eyes as he starts to get dizzy.  He hopes that the peace of death will come soon.

            "Darien.  No, Darien, no!"  Claire gasps, seeing his naked wrists.  She rushes to him, grabbing his gashed arms.

            "Claire.  Let me go.  Please," He pleads, blackness reaching for him.

            "No, not this way.  I just got you back…" She says, frantic.  She hits a button on the wall.

            "Please, Claire.  There's nothing left of me.  I don't know who I am, who to trust, what is real…I can't…I can't live this way," Darien says, weakly. 

            "You don't deserve to die this way, either," Claire replies.  Two agents, registered nurses, rush in.  The Official hired them to help with Darien's recovery.  They help Claire put pressure on Darien's gaping wrists. 

            "There's no other way…not anymore…" Darien is crying.

            "Darien."  Claire holds his face in her bloody hands.  "You said the other day, you said that you wouldn't let them take your soul…don't give up…don't give them your soul, Darien."

            Darien realizes that her feelings are pure.  He starts to sob.  He was so convinced that this was a ploy by his torturers to test him, when in actuality, he had been rescued and his friends were trying to help him.  He sobs as the two nurses wrap his wrists tightly.  Claire embraces him when they are done.  She holds him tightly and he cries. 

**********

            Bobby walks into the Keep, jovial.  He slept well after seeing his partner's improved condition.  Claire stops him before he can get to Darien's bed.  Bobby doesn't like the expression on her face.  Claire puts her finger to her lips and pulls him outside the room. 

            "What is it?"  Hobbes asks.

            "He's not doing as well today," Claire says quietly.

            "What happened?"  He asks, becoming agitated.

            Claire sighs.  "After you left yesterday, I fell asleep.  Darien palmed a scalpel.  He slit his wrists."  Bobby gasps.  "I caught him in time, we bandaged him and I gave him a transfusion, but his mental state is even more questionable now than ever."

            "God.  He tried to kill…did he say why?"  Bobby asks, distraught.

            Claire shakes her head.  "He said a little.  He doesn't trust anyone, he doesn't trust himself…when I found out what he was doing, he begged me to let him die."  She looks at Bobby, sadly.  "He wanted to die so bad and…who can blame him?  I mean, he's basically owned by the Agency, he's a slave to the madness and the counteragent.  Kevin abandoned him and then…he was stripped of his identity, Bobby.  I don't know how he's going to get over this."  She is breathless.  Bobby hugs her gently.

            "He'll pull through, Claire.  He has to." 

            Claire sniffles and separates herself.  "Well, he slept a little.  When he woke up, I tried to talk to him but he said that he wasn't ready.  He's not catatonic but he's not talking.  He's just lying there.  The good news is that I've gotten him to eat.  He can't eat a full meal, but he has kept a decent amount of food down."

            "Maybe I can get him to talk to me," Bobby says. 

            "It's worth a try.  Come on."  Claire leads him back into the Keep. 

            Bobby goes to Darien's bedside. 

            "Hey, partner.  Heard you had a bad night," Bobby remarks, pulling up a chair.

            Darien is trembling.  He smiles sadly.

            "You want to talk about it?"  Bobby asks. 

            Darien shakes his head.  He brushes a stray piece of hair from his eyes.  Bobby shivers, seeing the bandages on his friend's wrists.

            "Listen, buddy.  I know you've had a rough time, but it's going to get better."

            "It can't get much worse," Darien whispers.

            Bobby motions towards Darien's bandages.  "You think that would help?"

            "I don't know what else to do," Darien replies.  "I'm tired of trying."

            "You've got to have hope, kid," Bobby says.  He has never seen Fawkes so unhappy and hopeless.  His brown eyes are pools of anguish. 

            Darien shakes his head.  "I'm so tired."

            "Don't give up, Fawkes.  There's always something that makes life worth living," Bobby says.

            Darien looks at him.  "That's just it.  This isn't my life.  I'm a coward, Bobby.  I used to sneak into people's houses when they were out of town.  I was afraid of prison so I turned to my brother."  A tear runs down his cheek.  "I tried to kill myself.  I'm a coward."

            Bobby shakes his head.  "You're not a coward!  You are one of the bravest men I know!  You have risked your life countless times to save people, to save me!"

            "But I was scared," Darien says, looking away.  "I'm always scared.  My life is driven by fear.  I don't want to live like this.  I'm so tired."

            Bobby notices Claire motioning for him.  Darien has closed his eyes.  Bobby follows Claire into the hall. 

            "We've got a problem," Claire says quietly.

            "What?"

            Claire holds out a piece of paper.  "Darien's captors inserted a small device into the small of his back.  I had been wondering why Darien didn't go into quicksilver madness in their lab and this answers that.  This implant releases a small amount of counteragent every few hours."

            "But won't he build a tolerance?"  Bobby asks, ignoring the paper.

            "Yes.  He already is.  His shakes, his nausea, he's like a junkie going through withdrawal.  His body is craving more counteragent than the implant can supply.  Fortunately, I have a backup formula for a new counteragent, but the implant…" Her voice drifts.

            "Keepie?  What?"  Bobby demands.

            "It's booby trapped."

            Bobby stares at her. 

            Claire tries to explain.  "If I remove the implant, it will trigger a reaction with the psychotropic drugs that they gave him in that horrible place.  Those drugs are always in your system, they sort of pool into the spinal fluid in your back, that's why people that used LSD have flashbacks, its when the leftovers are activated.  Anyway, if I remove the implant, those drugs will start running through his system again."

            "And Darien's going to freak out like a hippie."  Bobby exhales.  "How bad?  Can you sedate him?"

            "Not likely.  One of the chemical compounds he was exposed to caused him to build a resistance to anesthesia and any other tranquilizers we try to give him."  She wipes a piece of hair from her forehead.  "So I have to tell Darien that number one:  He needs surgery; number two:  He can't be anesthetized; number three:  He's going to suffer severe hallucinations and pain afterwards for an undetermined amount of time and number five:  that the new counteragent may not work."

            "Wow.  He's not going to like that," Bobby says.

            Claire jumps as she feels a cold hand on her shoulder.  "What happens if it stays in?"  Darien asks, quicksilver flaking off his thin frame.

            Claire doesn't meet his eyes.  "If we don't remove the implant, you'll grow immune to the counteragent and eventually go quicksilver mad.  You will not accept the new formula; it'll react with the other counteragent and slowly paralyze you until your body shuts down.  You'll be insane and paralyzed."

            Darien slowly nods.  "Wow.  What was that you were saying earlier Bobby, about stuff getting better?"

            "Darien," Bobby starts, but Darien holds up his hand to stop him.

            "Claire," Darien says, taking her hand in his trembling one.  "When you get this thing out, will I get better?"      

            "You'll feel better, Darien.  Not instantly, but in a few days your body will recover," She replies, honestly.

            Darien nods.  "I'm sorry guys."  He holds out his bandaged hands.  "This isn't me.  God…Kevin would be so disappointed…I don't want to die.  Not like this.  I just have one request."   

            "I'm listening," Claire says.

            "After the surgery and the bad shit…I want to go home."  He pleads with his brown eyes.  "I think if I went to my place…I could find my way…my way back."

            "That's a good idea, actually, Darien," Claire acknowledges.             

            Darien turns and starts walking down the hall.

            "Where are you going?"  Claire calls.

            "To that goddamned padded room.  I don't want to be around any scalpels when I start tripping out."  He turns.  "Come on.  I want everything that can come out of me to get the hell out of me."

            Claire and Bobby hurry to catch up. 

**********

            "Hey, Keeper," Darien says, lying facedown on an operating table.  "If the new counteragent is going to react with the old, are you going to let my system get rid of the old counteragent?"  His voice is shaky.

            "If you're asking whether you'll go quicksilver mad without the counteragent in your system then I'll have to say no.  I'm going to flush the counteragent out of your system and then almost at the same time, inject you with the new serum. Hopefully your body will not have time to react."  Claire turns to one of the nurses.  "Have you started the anesthesia?"

            "I've given him a full dose," The nurse replies, quietly. 

            "Just do it, Claire.  I heard you tell Bobby how the pain meds don't work.  Get it over with," Darien sighs.  His voice is dull.  "I'll try not to scream."

            One of the nurses holds Darien's restrained hand as Claire makes a small incision in his back. 

            Darien is silent through the entire procedure.  Immediately after Clair drops the implant into a dish, Darien speaks. 

            "Keeper?  I thought the madness wouldn't come…my head is killing me."

            "It's okay, Darien, you have just a few more minutes to hang on.  I'm going to sew you up and then flush you're system," Claire replies, but she knows that he should not have symptoms of quicksilver madness yet. 

            After repairing the incision, Claire prepares the counteragent flush. 

            Despite the restraints, Darien's body is quivering but Darien isn't complaining. 

            "How are you doing, Darien?"  Claire asks.

            "You don't want to know.  Just hurry…" Darien whispers. 

            Claire injects the liquid into Darien's I.V. and watches him jerk violently against his restraints.

            "I want out…" A calm voice says.  Claire realizes that Darien has already reached stage two of Quicksilver Madness.  She quickly checks a monitor before injecting him with the new counteragent. 

            "Darien?"  She calls.  He is unconscious.

            While he is unconscious, Claire and the nurses release him from his restraints and place him on a bed in the padded room.  Claire and Bobby were wary of the room because of Darien's hatred of it and because of his torture.

            Darien had insisted on the room.  He was afraid that he would be dangerous in any other environment.

            Bobby and Claire sit by him, waiting for him to regain consciousness. 

            "So you think the new counteragent worked?"  Bobby whispers. 

            "My tests say yes but we won't know until he wakes up," She replies.

            Darien groans.  He starts to struggle, waving his hands in the air to fight off invisible attackers.

            "Shh, Darien, its okay," Claire says, trying to calm him. 

            Darien opens his eyes.  They become wide with fear.  "Oh, god…what have I done to you?"

            "I'm fine, Darien, no," Claire says, but Darien curls up into a corner, shaking. 

            "I'm sorry…I always knew I'd lose it and hurt you, Claire…I'm so sorry."  He starts to cry. 

            Bobby goes to him.  "Fawkes?"

            Darien has his hands over his face, sobbing.  "Go away…I don't want to hurt you too…" He suddenly stops crying and holds his arms away from his body.  "Do you feel that?  God, can you see that?" 

            A thin sliver of quicksilver is coiling up his arm.

            "Claire.  Look at his eyes," Bobby whispers.

            One of Darien's eyes is clear and normal but the other is completely red.

            "Darien, can you tell me how you feel?"  Claire asks calmly.

            He looks at her, blinking to try to gain focus.  Some of the redness swirls into his good eye.  "I feel like…like there are too many people in this room…" He looks around.

            "No, Darien, remember how you feel when the madness comes?"  Claire asks.

            Darien nods.  "I don't feel like that."  His red eye has swirls of silver in it but the other is clear again.  He reaches out and touches her face, tenderly.  "Why, are you scared?"

            Bobby watches as both his eyes return to normal.

            Darien jerks suddenly.  His body starts to quake violently.  "Guys…I think you'd better leave now."

            "Darien?  Why?  What's wrong?"  Claire asks, concerned.

            Darien shakes his head as his body convulses.  "I don't know…but…you'd probably call it…psychosis…get out…I'll be fine…go…" He tries to keep his voice calm but Claire and Bobby can feel his fear.

            "But, Darien…" Claire protests.  She backs away when she sees that his eyes are silver.

            "Go now…please," He pleads.

            Claire and Bobby lock Darien in the room.  They watch alongside the official as Darien curls into a fetal position beneath the small cot. 

            "Claire, what is happening?"  The official asks.

            "His body is going through a period of adjustment.  I think the new counteragent and the implant's hallucinogens are at war."

            Darien eventually crawls out from under the cot and sits cross-legged in the floor. 

            "Who is he talking to?"  Bobby asks.

            Sure enough, Darien is talking animatedly.  Claire turns on the speakers.

            "I don't think so," Darien says.  "I mean, I think about it a lot, but I always thought you'd be ashamed of me."

            Darien pauses.  "You really think I'll end up like Simon Cole?  Of course, I'll believe you, Kev.  You've never lied to me."

            "I'm going in there," Bobby says, unable to watch his friend's delusions.

            "Bobby.  He's not himself.  Remember that," Claire says.

            Bobby goes into the room and sits down beside Darien. 

            "Hey, Bobby.  I was just talking to Kevin," Darien says, flatly.

            "Fawkes?"

            "Yeah?"

"What do you remember about Kevin?"  Bobby asks, quietly.  "Is he still here?"

            Darien looks around.  "Sure.  Kev, Allianora, my uncle, they all stopped by."

            "Fawkes," Bobby starts.

            "They said that you were going to tell me that they're all dead."  Darien winces.  He turns aside.  "No, Kev, no, I wouldn't do that…"

            "Darien, what did Kevin say?"  Bobby asks.

            "He said that I…that I killed you…god, Bobby…I'm so sorry…" Darien gets upset.  "I always knew the madness would get me…"

            "Darien, you didn't hurt me.  I'm fine…Look at me, Fawkes."  Bobby shakes his partner.

            "So much blood…so much blood…everywhere…so much death…" Darien looks around in fear.

            "Darien, calm down.  Fawkes, come on, man!"  He tries to soothe his friend.

            Darien shakes his head.  "I'm poison…everything I touch…I destroy…stay away…" He pushes away from Bobby.  He huddles in the corner, trembling.

            "Fawkes.  You're okay, this is Bobby talking, you're fine, I want you to calm down and look at me," Hobbes tries to keep his voice steady.

            Darien looks at him. 

            "Good.  Remember how your brother taught you to calm down and try to regulate your temperature and stuff?  I want you to try and calm down and think about what's going on and who's here with you, okay?"  Bobby watches Darien's eyes as he fights for his sanity. 

            Darien opens his mouth to speak but a pained expression washes over his face.  His eyes roll back and he goes limp. 

**********

            Darien is warm.  He wakes up and for a moment, he feels fine.  No pain, no red-hot thoughts, no fear, and for that instant, Darien is grateful.  He cautiously opens his eyes as dull pain starts to throb in his back.  His wrists itch but it isn't until he looks at them in the dim evening light that he remembers that he slashed them.  He glances around himself and finds that he is in his bed.  His bed in his apartment.  He sits up carefully, and glances around him.  The apartment is dark but the blinds are open and dusk gives him his light.  He sees Claire's blonde hair splayed across his couch.  He clicks on the lamp beside his bed.

            He holds his head as a pulsing pain starts.  His vision is a little spotty, black dots and swirls floating through his view.  He remembers about the hallucinogens when he sees a purple frog in his peripheral vision.  He blinks it off. 

            Darien kneels beside Claire's sleeping head.  He kisses her softly on the forehead.  "Thank you."  He cannot describe the comfort he feels just having his own things around him. 

            Claire smacks her lips and a tiny smile plays on her lips like a nice dream.  Darien starts to tiptoe around his apartment, leaving her.

            Darien opens his retro refrigerator and opens a bottle of Dasani.  He tries not to gulp the cold water.  It feels like years since he was in this room.  He takes a seat on the pool table, his long legs dangling over the edge. 

            He feels safe here.  He sees his posters hanging on the wall and his collection of philosophy books stacked beside comic books in the corner.  He takes a deep breath. 

            "Darien?"  Claire mumbles.  "Darien, no…no, Darien, please…"

            He slowly goes to her side.  She is talking in her sleep.

            "Darien, don't go…please…stop, Darien…" She mutters, her face twisted with distress. 

              "Claire," Darien whispers, quietly.  She opens her eyes.

            "You're up?  Why are you up?"  She asks, instantly alarmed.

            "Because I feel better."  He waves a hand in between their faces.  "Except for these damned tracers."

            "Tracers?"  She asks.  "Are you in pain?"

            "You didn't drop acid in high school, did you?"  Darien smiles, amused.  "Tracers, these rainbows of color that you see whenever anything moves."  He waves his hand in front of his eyes.

            Claire watches him, anxious for any signs of psychosis.  She recognizes a dim gleam in his eyes that she hasn't seen for a while.  He looks like the sarcastic jolly man that she has come to care so much about.  He giggles as he stares at the 'tracers'. 

            "Darien.  I don't think you're supposed to enjoy it that much," She smiles.

            He laughs.  "Hey, don't knock it until you try it…it's been a long time since I let myself enjoy anything," He admits, suddenly. 

            "Darien," Claire hesitates.  She desperately wants him to talk to her about his unresolved issues but she isn't sure whether or not this is the right time.

            "No.  It's true.  I'm never going to get over what happened to me, Claire."  He looks at her with angst-ridden eyes.  "But I have been doing worse things to myself for a while.  I have grown to hate life and the things that come along with it.  So last week, I was stripped of everything.  I gave up my identity, my feelings, everything I have, even my life.  I let them take my life away, Claire.  I used to love life."

            He pauses and Claire takes his hand and squeezes it, reassuredly.

            "But you saved me," Darien smiles.  "I don't want to die, Claire.  I'm not in jail, I'm not strapped to a bed connected to electrodes, I'm in my apartment.  With a friend.  That's enough to live for.  I can accept what I have and wait for it to get better.  I have to."

            Claire nods.  "You know I'm doing everything I can to find a way to remove the gland."

            He turns away.  "I know, but since I don't know anything about science, it…it just feels like a really long wait."

            Claire takes his other hand.  "I'll get it out.  Let me give you your life back, Darien.  Let me try." 

            Darien is looking at the floor, thinking about his words.  Claire cups his chin and kisses him gently on the lips. 

            She surprises herself and regrets it for an instant but then, he is kissing her back and her regrets disappear. 

            Darien pulls away, suddenly, after several minutes.  He is breathless.  "I can't, Claire.  Not now…not today…god…"  He stands up and walks away, his hand covering his face.

            Claire is red.  "Talk about a lapse in judgment.  I'm sorry, Darien.  I'm so worried about you and I guess…I don't know when I'll get another chance to do that."

            "What were you dreaming about just now?"  Darien asks, his back to her.

            Claire blinks.  "I don't know."

            "You were saying my name."

            She sighs.  "I keep seeing you in the lab.  Bleeding.  God, Darien, we just got you back and you were going to leave again."  She shakes her head.  "I don't want you to go.  I…I kind of like having you around."

            Darien smiles at her, slightly.  "I got that impression."

            Claire blushes a deeper red.

            Darien takes another swallow of his water.  "Can we…can we forget about what just went down for a while?  I don't know if I can afford to have that on my mind right now."

            "Of course.  It was the wrong time," She sighs, slightly relieved.

            Darien grins at her, looking more and more like the man she cares about.  "I don't know how I'm ever going to get it off my mind, though.  You're a vixen."

**********

            Darien wakes up later and sees Bobby and Claire talking in his small kitchen.

            "Hey guys.  What's going on?"  He asks, seeing stress on their faces. 

            "I'm trying to convince Claire to go home and get some sleep.  She hasn't been home in days and I think that since your health is so much better that she should go home," Bobby declares.

            "I'll agree on one condition," Darien yawns.

            They both look at him.

            "Bobby, take your meds.  Now.  Don't try to tell me you've already taken them because I'm not that out of it," Darien says, sternly.

            Claire and Bobby stare at him.  Bobby smiles and laughs quietly.  He pulls a bottle out of his pocket and swallows two pills.

            Claire sighs, but picks up her purse.  "I'll be back."

            "Hey," Darien calls, once she is at the door.  "Bring some food back, will ya?"

            She nods and waves agreement.

            "I brought some grilled cheese sandwiches," Bobby says, pointing to a bag on the counter.

            "Good man.  A la Bobby Hobbes?" 

            "Of course.  How are you feeling?"  Bobby is clearly concerned about Darien, but he is cautious.

            "I'm better.  I feel like a new man.  Or how about, I feel like the man I once was?"  Darien yearns to see Hobbes' familiar jubilance.

            Bobby sits down on a stool.  Darien remains in bed. 

            "You scared me, Fawkesy," Hobbes confesses.  He watches Darien's reaction.

            Darien nods.  "I guess so.  Imagine how scared I was."  He stretches. 

            "But you're feeling better?"  Hobbes asks, hopefully. 

            Darien massages his temples.  "I'm not 100% but I'm better.  I'm home," He says, opening his arms.  "I'm home and I'm a little wiser."

            "What do you mean, wiser?"  Bobby raises an eyebrow.  "All that philosophy bouncing around in your brain finally fit together?"

            Darien smiles.  "No.  I wish."  His smile fades.  He climbs out of bed and walks past Bobby to the kitchen.  He opens a drawer and hands Bobby a small revolver.

            "What the hell…" Bobby examines the weapon.  He flips it open and sees only one bullet.

            "Take care of that for me.  I don't think I need it anymore," Darien says after several tense moments.

            "What are you doing with this?"  Hobbes asks quietly.

            Darien sighs.  "I got it from an old friend a while back when Arnaud was still hovering close by.  Then it took on a different purpose."

            Bobby holds his breath as he anticipates Darien's confession.

            Darien sits down on the bed.  "Every morning for the last few weeks, before I was kidnapped of course, I would wake up and get ready for work.  Then I would sit on the bed and take out that pistol.  I would spin the cylinder and then point it right here on my chest."  Darien performs the motions as he narrates.

            "Darien, I had no idea," Bobby says finally.

            He nods.  "I know.  But now, I realize how foolish I am.  My life is a gift and I have no right to abuse what I have."

            Bobby finally breathes.  "Good.  Good to hear that, partner."  He tucks the pistol in his waistband. 

            Darien smiles slightly.  "I don't think I'll ever be good with a gun."

            Bobby wrinkles his forehead in confusion.

            "I mean, I did that ritual every day for a while and the bullet was never in the chamber.  Not once," Darien explains.

            Bobby smiles.  "That's because it wasn't your time.  Somebody up there knew you didn't mean it."

            Darien nods.  "Maybe one day I'll be strong enough to thank them."

**********

EPILOGUE

           

            Several weeks after Darien's rescue and spiritual 'revival', he wanders into the Keep.  Claire is leaning over a microscope, enthralled in the miniscule creatures stirring on the slide.

            "Hey, Claire," Darien says, right behind her.  She jumps in alarm but turns to him with a wide smile on her face.

            "Darien.  How are you feeling today?"

            Darien's face has a healthy tan and he has been putting on weight where he isn't an anorexic skeleton anymore.  He looks better than Claire has ever seen him.

            "Good.  Good, Keepie.  I wanted to talk to you a minute," He says, seriousness painting a mask on his face.  His brown eyes are full of anxiety.

            "What is it?"  She becomes worried, seeing his unrest.

            "Remember when you took me back to my apartment and I woke you up when you were sleeping on the couch?  Did all that really happen?"  Darien asks, nervous.

            Claire has been waiting for this chance for weeks.  Darien never mentioned the kiss again but she liked to think that he remembered it fondly as she did.

            "You mean this?"  She asks, kissing him on the lips.  After several minutes, Darien pulls away, much like he did the first time.

            "Wow.  Yep, that's how I remembered your taste…Um, Claire?"  Darien asks, red-faced.  Claire instantly regrets her impulse.

            "I'm sorry, Darien, I…" She starts.

            "No, Claire, its not like that," He says, taking her hands so she cannot turn away.

            She looks at him, curious.           

            Darien squeezes her hands and enfolds her in an embrace.  "I've been thinking about that kiss…the first one…for a while and I think I need to explain something to you."

            She can't see his face, but she hears the emotion in his voice. 

            "The reason I haven't said anything or done anything about it is…I don't want to…Damn, Claire, this is fucking hard to put into words," Darien says, pulling away.  He paces a little in front of her.

            He stops and looks at her.  "All I want to do is hold you and wake up with you in my arms.  I want your sexy voice to call me on the phone and I want to make you dinner, but I don't want to need you.  I don't want to need you right now," Darien's turmoil shows on his face and in his eyes.  "Its so hard for me to wake up from a nightmare and want to go back to sleep.  I don't want to, I want to get up and run away from my fears, but I have to want to be okay so I have to want to go back to sleep."

            Claire looks at him, confused.  "I don't understand what you are trying to say, Darien."

            Darien takes a deep breath.  "You don't know how bad I want to kiss you right now.  But if I give in to that, and take you and kiss you and love you, then I won't know how to be by myself.  I'll have to have you beside me always, I'll need you, and maybe…you'll need me.  But if I do that, then I'll lose whatever's lost in me forever.  I have to be whole when I come to you."

            "What do you think you are missing, Darien?  Maybe I'm whatever you need to make you whole."  Claire is confused.  He sounds like he cares for her, but he won't be with her.

            "Its not a hole that can be filled by a person.  I have to find something that makes me want to live and it can't be you.  You could leave me, or get hurt, anything.  I need something inside myself that makes me want to live.  I won't put that pressure on you, Claire."  He turns away.  "I'll never forget your face when you were crying."

            Claire puts a trembling hand on Darien's shoulder and turns him gracefully to face her.  She wraps her arms around him and tucks her head under his chin. 

            "We fit together so well, Darien, but you say the puzzle pieces don't fit."

            "That's not what I'm saying," Darien sighs.

            Claire nods.  "I know what you're saying.  But maybe," She says, kissing him softly.  "Maybe one day you'll trust me enough to let me help you."

            "What do you mean?"  Darien asks.

            "Maybe if you learn to love and let yourself, you will find that reason."  Claire kisses him again.  This time, Claire pulls away.  "Darien.  I'll let you think about it some more.  You know where to find me."

            Darien watches her walk out of the Keep and he runs a hand through his hair.  "Aw, crap," He says.