Crossroads

by Unique

When Darien makes a final decision, Bobby can do nothing but watch.

This is not a happy story. It deals with suicide and death. If these topics bother you then I suggest you stop reading. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Not yours.

            There comes a point in every truly suicidal person's life where they reach a crossroads and stand there staring at the means to the end.  Once there one of three things will happen: the person will decide they want to live, the person will realize that they can not kill themselves, or they will go ahead and attempt it.  If they decided they want to live then they are no longer suicidal and the road ends.  If they learn that they can not kill themselves, they either wait until whatever that's preventing them is removed or they resign themselves to a life of hopeful wishes. If they try to kill themselves, they either die or fail. For the last two roads, it continues onward and they may come to the crossroads again.

            How do I know this? I've been there. I am there.  The first time I reached the crossroads I was young. I had seen too many things in too short a period of time and my mind couldn't handle it. I was breaking apart from the inside out. One night I couldn't take it anymore and I placed a gun in my mouth and inched my finger down the trigger.  The moment of decision was on me. I had reached the crossroads. That's when I saw her. Vivian. She was young and beautiful and completely in love with me. I couldn't kill myself. I couldn't do that to her. She was worth living for just to keep her happy.  I slowly lowered the gun and reached my hand out to touch the phantom of my imagination. She vanished but I was alive and I knew the real Vivian was waiting at home for me. I didn't regret not pulling the trigger then and I don't regret not pulling it now.

            The second time I reached the crossroads was after she left me.  All the joy in my life had vanished in one brief moment. I was devastated.   I was walking the edge of a cliff and could only see one way to keep from falling.  That time I made the decision to die. I dressed myself in my favorite outfit and sat down in the bathtub. Taking my knife, I gently began to peel away the layers of skin and membrane between the air and my blood. I took my time. I thought there was no one to find me. I was wrong. My partner had a burst of intuition and broke into my place stopping me before I had gotten very far.  I had barely started. The incision wasn't even deep enough to scar.  He had stopped me from ending my life but he couldn't stop me from falling off the cliff. Shortly after that I had a complete nervous breakdown that I'm still recovering from to this day.

            But this isn't about me…this is about my partner. Not the one that saved my life but my true partner. He was the peanut butter to my jelly. He was my best friend and I failed him.  As only a fellow traveler could recognize the signs, I saw every step he took along the road to the crossroads.  I tried to warn the others about the danger but they brushed me off. Don't mind the crazy old loon. He doesn't know what he's talking about. I bet they are listening now.  I am getting ahead of myself again. See my partner had this condition and he needed medicine on a regular basis. The meds were experimental so the only way he could get them was to work at my place of employment. Sometimes he was late getting the meds and he wasn't the same person when he didn't have them. Went kinda nutso. Violent, you know, bad stuff.  He did some bad things while he wasn't himself and he felt really guilty about it even though he couldn't help it at the time.

            I think the first time he saw the road was right after he tried to kill me. Darien, that's my partner's name. Darien told us that if it happened again he wanted a bullet. It wasn't something he'd contemplated but it was something he was serious about. From then on I noticed changes in him that I knew all too well. Death is a very enticing thing, my friend. Once you realize that the option is out there, it becomes hard to ignore it. Everything reminds you of this power you hold if you just wish to use it and every reminder brings you closer and closer to wanting to use it. A few short months later, Darien tasted a sip of his own death. He'd taken steps that forced me to give up heaven in order to save his life.  His desire to live was still very strong and he knew that I would save him but that sip though frightening at the time tasted sweeter later when things became rougher.  He enjoyed his new career and began to accept his lot in life but at the same time the hazards of the job and his situation wore on him endlessly. 

Gradually, his grief eased into depression and it was hard to tell the difference unless you knew what to look for. The Kee- Claire, his doctor, did not notice until, well, basically he crashed.  He did something stupid and the boss threatened to punish him unless he fessed up but my partner didn't care.  It did not matter what happened to him at that point. Later when the boss withheld his medication, Darien hurt some people and he learned not to rebel anymore. Then he lost his chick. After that he just didn't seem to have any fight left.  Oh sure, he acted normal most of the time but I could see that it was an act.  He still wasn't suicidal yet. He didn't make that step until his brother died. God, talk about a rough time. I watched him a lot after that.  I was worried see. He didn't know I was watching him though. He cried himself to sleep every night for a month. He hid every knife in the house. I'd catch him staring longingly at my gun or my meds when he thought I couldn't see him.  And everyday he'd stroll into work and complain or joke or lounge like everything was right in his world. I admired him. He was so strong and he worked so hard when he felt everything was crumbling. 

I'd thought he'd tried to kill himself…oh I guess it would have been about four months ago now.  We'd been on this case.  Had to find this kid that was being held hostage.  We found the kid but we were too late. He'd died a few hours before we found him. The things those men did to this kid…. let's just say they were not nice people. It was hard enough on me but Darien he loves kids. It tore him up inside and I was afraid for him.  He disappeared for a few days after that and I feared the worst. To this day I don't know where he went. All I know is that I found him sobbing like a baby on his brother's grave. He pulled through it though just like he always did. By this point no one believed me when I warned them about him.  They should have listened.

I was there when Darien reached the crossroads. I don't know how and I don't know why but I was there. I remember every second leading up to that moment and his anguish when he realized that he couldn't do it. Darien believed that he had to die not just because he couldn't bare living but also because he was too dangerous to live but somewhere deep inside he wanted to live. Beneath the pain was a man who loved life and that man would not let him die. Now for most men, this would be the end of the road and he'd go back to being miserable but Darien wasn't most men.

TBC 

It started out with a mission just like any other. We were going to go in and get out with no harm done.  A walk in the park.  I don't know how he knew it but Darien knew something was going to go wrong long before things turned bad. He hadn't been sleeping well and he admitted just before we went in that he had been having nightmares. He was vague about the details but I knew he had been dreaming about killing me again.  The last thing he told me before we separated was, "Be careful, partner, I have a bad feeling about this." I wish I could have called the whole thing off but we had come too far to turn back.

The building was more heavily guarded than are preliminary surveillance had revealed.  Darien got caught and couldn't get out of his hiding place. It took a firefight to get him out but it left him dangerously close to the edge. He was badly in need of his medication. I called Claire and headed back.  I tried to get him to get to his doctor before he had an attack but I was too late. I don't remember anything about what happened after we left the site. Apparently he forced me to pull over my van.  I tried to subdue him managing to get several blows in but I did not want to hurt my partner and he's stronger than usual when he's like that so he was able to overcome me. When Claire arrived, I was lying in a bloody, beaten heap with Darien standing over me. She shot him with a tranquilizer, administered his medication, and then attended to me.

I was unconscious and barely alive.  She immediately called the paramedics and did her best to stabilize me.  Darien woke up and freaked out so she did her best to calm him while dealing with me.  I was rushed to the hospital where I was treated for two broken ribs, a ruptured spleen, a broken nose, and swelling in my head.  Shortly after I came out of surgery I slipped into a coma. That's when things became really weird.  I'm not big on the paranormal crap but I've seen some things in my career that came straight out of one of those shows on that science fiction channel Eberts watches and this topped all of them.  See when I went off to visit la la land I wasn't really unconscious, I was with Darien. It was like one of those outside the body experiences only instead of going to heaven I haunted my partner. I know you don't believe me but I can prove it.  They have been very hesitant to tell me any details about the last days of Darien's life beyond the fact that he is gone but I am sure they have given you full disclosure. If you listen to my version of the events, you will see that it matching your information exactly even though I was not privy to that information.

Claire and Darien were sitting in the waiting room when the doctor came out to inform them of my status.   Claire was doing her best to keep Darien calm but she was struggling. He was consumed with guilt and every minute that he had to wait for information on my condition did not help matters…

"Claire, can't you go back there and find out how he's doing?" pleaded Darien.

"Darien, you know I can't do that. Will you please stop asking me."

"It's all my fault. I knew something bad was going to happen and I ignored it. He's going to die and it's my fault. I've killed him. Oh God, that creepy dude was right."

"Darien, it is not your fault. You couldn't control what you were doing. It wasn't you. Now breathe. That's it. In and out. In and out. Good." Claire spoke softly and gently preventing Darien from hyperventilating. She began rubbing his back but he jerked away from her.

"Don't try to make me feel better. You have no idea."

"Darien," she said helplessly. His moment of rage passed and he buried his face in his hands.

"I did it, Claire. It doesn't matter if I wasn't myself at the time. It was these hands that hit him," he stated quietly looking at the scabs on his knuckles. "I did it." When he looked up and met her gaze, his eyes were so full of sadness and despair that she had to bite her lip to keep from crying.

"Who is here with Mr. Robert Hobbes?" Darien and Claire turned towards the questioner and stood up.

"We are. I'm his doctor, Claire Keeply. This is his partner, Darien Fawkes."

"I'm Dr. Leighander Johnson. I operated on Mr. Hobbes."

"How is he?"

"He's lost a lot of blood and his heart stopped twice during surgery but he managed to pull through. He's lapsed into a coma but that's not uncommon with someone with injuries as extensive as his are. The main concern now is that his cranial pressure keeps rising. We've installed a shunt but the next twenty-four hours will be critical."

"If he makes it through then, will he be fine?" asked Darien worriedly.

"We can't begin to estimate what kind of brain damage he has suffered until he wakes up. If he wakes up."

"I see. Can we see him?"

"He's being moved to ICU but I'll let one of you go in for a few minutes once he's been situated."

"I'm going in."

"I really should check…."

"I said, ' I am going in'," interrupted Darien in a deadly, serious voice. Claire fell silent but watched him worriedly. Nothing good ever happened when he started using that voice. They moved to the intensive care waiting room then Darien was allowed in to see me. He stood frozen in the doorway for a few moments before moving forward and collapsing beside my bed sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, partner. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." I longed to console him but I could do nothing but watch. I would be doing a lot of helpless watching in the weeks to follow. "You don't have to worry about it happening again. I'm going to protect you. I'll make you safe again," continued Darien. "Never again." He dried his tears and stared at me intently. His expression was serious and very resolved. I did not know what he intended to do but I had an idea and it wasn't good. When the nurse came and told him to leave, he stared at her for a few minutes then said, "Take care of him." 

He walked out of the room then out of the hospital with his pace increasing with every step until finally he was running. He didn't remember that his car was at work until he reached the parking lot. A waiting cab fixed the problem and he was soon on his way home.  Half way there he changed his mind and headed to work. There he paid the driver and persuaded the night watchmen to let him into his office. Quietly, he slipped behind my desk (We share an office.) and picked the lock on my bottom drawer pocketing my spare revolver. He proceeded to drive home fingering the firearm the whole time. By this time, I knew exactly what he was planning but I could not interact with him in anyway.

He walked upstairs to his apartment nodding to his neighbors as though it was any old day.  He sat on his bed and pulled the gun out to sit in his lap. He stared at it mesmerized. Finally he snapped his attention away to look for a piece of paper. In unusually neat handwriting, he wrote seven, short, little words: I will not let it happen again. He checked the gun for bullets and took the safety off. Slowly, he lifted the gun until it was level with his mouth. He inched it forward and opened his lips delicately to wrap them around the mouth. He froze for a second, a minute, an eternity. He had reached the crossroads and time there was infinite. I can only guess what passed through his mind as he sat there contemplating his choices. I was flashing between my own memories of kissing my gun and panic over my partner. Eventually he jerked back and threw the gun across the room.

"I can't do it. I'm sorry, Bobby. I tried but I can't do it," he said from where he had slumped across the bed sobbing. He calmed down drifting into sleep. Just before he fell asleep, he murmured, "I'll have to try again. I'll keep you safe, partner." He tried again every night that week before finally accepting that he just could not kill himself. At the same time, he had to dodge questions from Claire who knew something was up.  He spent as much time as possible with me or by his brother's grave. I think part of it was that he felt safe with us and part of it was that he knew she wouldn't bother him with us.  The boss kept his workload small or Darien would have tried to get himself killed out in the field. Darien's really smart though and it didn't take him long enough to figure out a way around his problem.

"Hey, Hobbes," greeted Darien coming into my hospital room. I had been moved out of ICU and into a private room. "How are you doing today? The Chief not in a good mood today but that's not unusual. Claire's been bugging me again. I don't know why she won't leave me alone. It's not like I can do anything." The bitterness in his voice was palpable. "I wish I didn't care. I wish I---THAT'S IT!  Stage Five," he exclaimed in a voice tinged with wonderment. I think he was a bit in awe of his genius or perhaps of how easy it would be to get around his predicament.

See his condition progressed in stages. First he became ill tempered and touchy, then he had bad headaches just before he became a violent, evil psychopath. The last stage was the strangest. He had no inhibitions what so ever and he did not care about anything. This stage was also the most deliberate. If he was angry when he went into it then he'd be violent and aggressive. Once he went into it depressed and he did nothing but walk around the city crying. If he went into the stage determined to kill himself, then whatever that was preventing him now would no longer matter and he'd finish the job.

TBC

Darien had been working with me for so long that he was almost as paranoid as I am.  He had to wear a monitor that kept track of his condition and he had long since suspected that the device contained a tracer.  He hoped that the device was only triggered during the advanced stages or that it did not contain a tracer at all but he took precautions against being caught. He also had to be meticulous about the set up because he did not want himself loose in public while he was going through stage four. He planned everything out that night but it took him the next three weeks to put the plan into action.

The first thing he did was travel up to see his aunt. He wanted to say goodbye but he also needed money. He did not trust the security of his banks and he did not want anything to give away his plans. Like I said, he was as paranoid as I am.  Armed with a few thousand dollars, he began a tour of all the towns that were between three hours and four hours away from San Diego searching for one that would meet his needs. Finally, in a small town about three and a half hours away, he found the perfect place. It was a single room apartment like his in San Diego only made from an old warehouse so there were steel columns in the middle of the room. Almost two weeks after he started looking, he made the payment for a month's rent.

Claire became increasingly suspicious at his fatigue level and the amount of time he was unaccounted for. Fed up, she cornered him one day and refused to give him his medication until he 'fessed up. He told her a sob story about how he couldn't sleep at night and that he had taken to riding around town for hours at a time. In my honor, he'd been practicing ditching tails, which accounted for why the agents had been unable to find him. His lying abilities had increased since he joined us and she fell for it hook, line and sinker. I wouldn't have fallen for it but not everyone has my lie detecting abilities. She told him that she wanted him to take the rest of the afternoon off and get some rest. She also told him that she was there if he ever wanted to talk about it. He promised that he would so she would leave him alone.

Once he had the location and he dealt with Claire, he began making the final preparations. He bought several feet of weather resistant chains with accompanying locks.  He'd spent a lot of time planning how he would get alone to kill himself but it wasn't until then that he'd planned the method of suicide. Once again he was thinking of me, finally deciding to use the lethal virus that was the cause of his first brush with death. This provided with one more occasion to use his cat burglar skills. The biggest challenge was breaking into the labs without leaving any signs of entry. He decided to leave this until the last minute. In the mean time, he had a will made and made the arrangements for his funeral. He also spent as much time as possible at my side or visiting his brother's grave.

"Hey, Kev," he said sitting down beside the headstone. "It won't be long now. We'll be together again. I know things haven't exactly turned out the way you planned but I hope you'd agree with this. I know I'm doing the right thing. I can't keep going insane and hurting innocent people, especially my partner. I just…I can't. It's not an option." He fell quiet. "I miss you. I wish you were here to make everything better like you did when we were little but you aren't. It'll be OK soon." It was hard to sit there and listen to him and not be able to do anything. I wanted to be able to help him so bad. But you know what? As hard as it was to watch him at his brother's grave, it was a thousand times harder when it came time for him to say goodbye to me. He came in and sat down like usual but instead of talking he laid his head against my chest and listened to my heartbeat.

"What a beautiful sound," he whispered, briefly lifting his head to look at my face. "It means that you are still alive. I'm gonna miss you. We've been through a lot together. I don't know if Kevin told you but I told him once that I trust you. I can't say that about many people in my life. You're my best friend. One of the few true friends I've had. I can't ruin something like this. I can't hurt you again. I hope you understand what I'm going to do. I'm doing it for you see. That way you'll be safe. You'll never have to be afraid of me. You've taken care of me for so long…I've got to do this to take care of you." He squeezed my hand and stood up. To my surprise, he bent down and kissed me softly on the forehead whispering, "Goodbye, partner. Take care of yourself." I couldn't say goodbye or cry or do anything. It…it was excruciating. He needed me and I wasn't there for him.

The next day was Friday and he worked late at work.  He figured that the security would be easier to get around if he was already in the building. My partner, he's very talented. He can disappear from sight and you'll never even know he's there.  In a building like ours where he knows every inch of it, it wasn't difficult for him to steal a sample of the virus and a dose of his medication. He needed the medication because he did not want to go into stage one before he was ready. He injected himself with it before he left that night. Within an hour after leaving the… where we work, he had said goodbye to San Diego and was on his way north with his supplies. He didn't so much as glance back at the city through his rearview mirror. He did not seem sad about his decision, just determined.

I don't think he'd really spent that much time thinking about what he was going to do. He focused on him keeping me safe and avoided the fact that he was preparing to kill himself.  He wanted to die but he had trouble admitting this to himself.  I think maybe he'd been taught to be ashamed of stuff like that. Maybe he felt that he was a loser and a coward wanting to take the easy way out.  He wasn't afraid. If anything he was looking forward to crossing over. He just couldn't admit that he was in the process of committing suicide.

When Darien arrived, he took a brief nap setting his alarm to go off at eight the next morning.  He wanted to have everything complete before his work the night before was discovered but he did not want to die at night. It was also dark in the apartment because he had not had it furnished with anything. He slept peacefully which was unusual for him. He'd been plagued with nightmares for years. He was smiling when he woke up. He whistled as he wound the chains around the concrete pillars. He secured himself firmly and locked the chains together.  The key was placed in the padded metal box with the virus and a needle. The box was locked with a combination lock to which Darien did not know the combination. His stage four alter ego did not posses the patience to crack the lock so he would remain secure until his stage five alter ego arrived. He patted his pocket to make sure that the note he'd written almost a month ago remained inside. Everything set he shoomed to bring the reaction on faster. Now, before you ask what shooming is…it's need-to-know and you don't. Got it?

A minute passed, then five, then ten. He had almost reached fifteen minutes when he cried out and began to convulse. He was wracked in pain for several minutes. He seemed almost stuck between stages as though his condition knew what he was up to and did not approve. Finally he sagged and raised his head to stare maliciously around the place.

"Hey, Arnie," he growled to the empty room. "Where are you? Hmm, not here I see. How about you, Keepy? Hobbsey? Doesn't anyone want to come out and play? Guess not, I'll just have get out of these and go find me someone to play with." All the while he had been struggling at the chains. He tried every method possible but could not budge. He unwittingly accelerated the process by trying to freeze the chains. He sagged again. This time when he straightened, he was cleared headed. He knew exactly where he was, why he was there, and what he was going to do while he was there. Picking up the safe, he placed his ear against the side and listen as he turned the dial. Click-click-click. Just like that he had the lock open. The other locks followed immediately after and he unwound himself from the chains. It had been necessary but he hated being locked up and he was not going to die that way.

Carrying the box to the furthest corner from his pillar, he made himself as comfortable as possible. Carefully, he removed the vial containing the virus and drew it into the needle. Copying Claire, he squirted a little out of the top to remove any air bubbles. He stared at the liquid. He did not return to the crossroads because there is no crossroads in his state of madness. There is only purpose and reaction. Some part of him recognized the solution as death though and was fascinated by it so he took a moment to examine it. "Parting is such sweet sorrow," he quoted to himself. He calmly slid the needle into the muscle of his thigh and depressed the end sending the poisonous virus shooting into his bloodstream. "Out, out, brief candle," he said borrowing another line from the Bard as he pulled the needle from his thigh. The effects began almost instantly. He sagged against the wall and stared forward gasping. He grew calm and still as time sped onward.  A smile crossed his lips as his vision fogged and grew dim. The time between each breath increased as the time between heartbeats slowed. Each second brought him closer and closer to the last. I closed my eyes unable to watch any longer.

"Bobby?" he whispered in a quaking breath. My eyes burst open to find his gazed locked on me. "Are we dead?"

"Not yet, partner. I've been with you for a while but I'm not dead yet and neither are you." I inched closer to him.

"But…"

"Hush, now, don't talk. It won't be long now." I smiled at him through the phantom tears.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I understand why you did this. I didn't want you too but I understand."

"I'll wait for you," he said not looking away. I could only nod at him. He reached his hand out towards me and I found my arm lifting in response. Our fingers brushed and we merged. It was like the bond that had always been between us had suddenly become us. It was indescribable. I felt his fear and his relief at dying along with his happiness at being able to talk to me one last time. I felt his body dying cell by cell as it shut down. It hurt but Darien had been living in pain for so long that this was nothing for him. I doubt he even noticed it. I was having trouble seeing or hearing anything except Darien's faltering heartbeat.  Everything was numb and chill. Sight faded into black and sound disappeared. There was nothing and I was falling. He was falling. We were dying. Somewhere his heart had stopped and the rest of him was  rapidly following. The free fall ended and in that last jolt of life before death I woke up.

Normally, when someone's in a coma, they wake up by degrees very slowly. I didn't. I jerked awake gasping, startling Claire who was sitting by my side. She told me later that I was very incoherent at the time. Seems I tried to tell her that Darien was dead but couldn't get the thoughts out very well since I was crying and understandable shaken by my recent experiences. Later, she decided that I must have heard Darien telling me what I planned to do. She never compared my version with her version. Like I said before, they've been very careful to keep the details to themselves. The doctors kept me in the hospital for another week before giving me a clean bill of health.

Claire discovered Darien's medication missing that night after she left me and initiated a search. His paranoia was evidently justified because it took them less than a day to find him. She came in the second day after I woke up to tell me he was dead. She wouldn't give me any details but I already knew. I took it fairly well considering I'd been preparing for that moment for two days. I couldn't go to the funeral. He was buried beside his brother just like he had arranged. There's a plot there for me and his aunt if we ever want it. He left his aunt some money and things that belonged to the family. Everything else was left to me and Claire.

I had the job of cleaning out his apartment so that's how I spent my recovery time. It wasn't a good time for me. I'd lost my best friend  and now I was alone. I couldn't be angry at him so that made dealing with it even worse. My emotions were complicated by the fact that my anti-depressants could not be taken with my current medication. All of these things combined and I found myself at the crossroads for the third time. I sat on his bed and dumped out all of my medications into little piles then dumped all of Darien's old pills onto the bed too. I picked up the first one and rolled it between my fingers considering it. It would be nice. I'd already died once so I wasn't afraid of it. I thought of Darien and his promise to me. I thought of what he'd done in part to make sure that I was safe. I thought of Claire's smile and Darien's laugh. I thought of how I was glad that I'd lived long enough to experience these moments. I realized that I love life. Darien's waiting for me somewhere but there's no rush to go meet him. I want to wait.

I put down the pill and picked up a different one. It was time for me to take that one and I even had some water out so I might as well. Unfortunately, Claire chose the moment I popped it in my mouth to walk in the door. She immediately jumped to the conclusion that I was killing myself. It was a logical conclusion but a false one. She rushed me to the emergency room ignoring my protests. They pumped my stomach and admitted me into the psych ward. Neither were pleasant experiences. Now I'm sitting here talking to you to see if I need more extensive care. I'm not going to hurt myself or anyone else. You've heard my story. The decision is yours.