"Bobby Hobbes," Darien hears in his ear. He doesn't speak.

"Hello? Look you asshole…" Hobbes starts.

"Hobbes," Darien says, his voice weak.

"Fawkes? Is that you?"

"Yeah, Bobby. Um…do you think you could come over here?" Darien closes his eyes as he hears the patheticness (new word creation!) in his voice.

"Are you all right, Fawkes?" Hobbes asks.

"You might want to bring the Keeper with you," Darien sighs, holding his side.

"Fawkes, what is it?"

Darien sighs again, his lungs hurting. "Can you just get here?" He summons his energy and throws the phone across the room.

He can't believe how everything has spun out of control. Darien was handling it. He found a way to sleep at night and to calm his tumultuous mind.

He lies on his couch, bleeding, but all he sees is his brother's bleeding body in h is arms. He can almost feel Kevin's life slipping away. Then he sees Allianora, her life running out of her like water onto the floor beneath him. Darien sees the red of his mad eyes reflected in the blood. Darien stops holding his side and holds his face in his hands. He just wants it all to stop. He's tired of hurting. He's tired of thinking. He wishes the darkness would take him. If not the darkness of death, then at least madness. He wouldn't be in such turmoil if he would let the insanity have him. Darien is tired of caring. He finishes his whiskey and throws it against the wall. It shatters at the same moment that his door opens.

"Fawkes, there's blood everywhere, where are you?" Hobbes calls.

"Darien, what happened?" Claire asks, kneeling beside the couch.

"I got jumped on my way back from the store," Darien says, wincing at the Keeper's touch.

"God. Bobby, go get my bag from my truck. Go now," Claire orders. Bobby leaves, looking stricken.

"You're bleeding so much, Darien, my God, aren't you in pain?" She asks.

Darien shakes his head. "No more than usual. I'm sure Bobby's filled you in."

Bobby walks in with Claire's doctor bag. "I didn't tell her anything, Fawkes. I wanted to talk to you more."

"What are you talking about?" Claire asks, cutting off Darien's shredded shirt.

"Tell her now, Bobby. I'm tired," Darien says, his vision wavering.

"Stay awake, Darien, I don't want you passing out on me," Claire scolds. "Bobby, what is he talking about?"

"He's drinking," Bobby says.

"I know, I can smell it," She replies.

Hobbes shakes his head. "He's drinking all the time. He's not eating or sleeping. He's just drinking."

"God," Darien winces as Claire cleans the gashes on his chest with antiseptic.

"But I'm his doctor, I would know," Claire starts. "But I never…I haven't looked at that…god, Darien."

"Can we save the lecture? Can you fix me, Keeper?"

Claire looks at Darien, distraught. "Would you let me?"

"What?" Darien asks, confused. "Just sew me up or something." She starts to fidget, upset.

"I can fix the outside but that's not the problem," She says, bandaging his wound carefully, intent on her work.

"Fawkes," Bobby warns, seeing Darien's expression. "How bad is it, Keep?"

"Not bad. He lost a lot of blood but nothing that can't be replaced," Claire sighs.

"Did I damage the gland?" Darien asks, cruelly.

"Darien, I didn't come over here because of the damned gland. I'm worried about you," She says.

Darien wants to believe her, but he won't let himself. She used to date his brother and she didn't tell him. He turns away.

"Fawkes. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Hobbes pulls him unsteadily to his feet. Darien lets Bobby help him to the bathroom.

"Thanks for coming, Bobby," Darien says, sitting on the toilet heavily.

"There are strings attached, you know," Hobbes replies, handing him a warm washcloth.

"I figured," Darien admits. He hears a strange sound coming from the other room.

Hobbes nods toward the noise. "That's the Keeper. She's crying because you won't talk to her."

Darien looks up in surprise.

"Fawkes, man, you've got to get a handle on this." Bobby looks at him sadly. "You're slipping away, kid. Can you feel yourself sliding?"

Darien nods. "I'm handling it."

Bobby shakes his head. "Look at yourself, Darien. You know this isn't the right way. This isn't you."

Darien washes blood off his face. "I don't know who I am anymore, Bobby. I'm not Darien Fawkes anymore. I'm the invisible man." He quicksilvers a hand and waves it at Bobby.

"You're more than that and you know it. You've got a lot on your plate right now, but I know you can handle it." Bobby is distracted by Claire's sobs.

"You should go talk to her," Darien says.

"Fawkes, its not me she wants to talk to, it's you. Why are you so anti-Claire these days?" Bobby asks.

"Its that who Cal-Tech thing where she went out with Kevin. I can't get past it, Hobbes. I mean, the thing I regret most about my life is that Kevin and I weren't closer. She knew Kev for a year. A year. She probably knows all kinds of things about him that I don't but she didn't think that it was important enough to bring up." Darien allows himself this confession.

"Fawkes, she's one of the nameless ones. We're not supposed to know anything about her," Hobbes tries to defend.

"Don't give me excuses," Darien retorts. "That's not my world. I live in a world where friends tell each other things like that. I thought she was my friend."

Hobbes sighs. "I'll get you a clean shirt."

Darien sighs, enjoying the moment alone. He knows Bobby is trying to help but he can't cope with the feeling of betrayal with Claire. He would love nothing more than to curl up in her arms and listen to her soft British accent talk him to sleep, but he can't.

Hobbes talks quietly to the Keeper before returning with a loose button-down shirt. Darien gingerly puts it on and buttons a few buttons.

"I can't let you destroy yourself, Fawkes. You don't deserve to go out like this," Hobbes says quietly.

"I'm not dying Hobbes," Fawkes sighs, tired of talking.

"Yes, you are," Bobby replies. "You've lost hope so you're as good as dead. You've not eating, man, how long do you think you're going to live like that? Look in my eyes and tell me that you're okay. Tell me that you can live happily the way things are now."

Darien looks at him, but cannot speak.

"Tell me, Fawkes," Bobby nods. "You can't."

"Okay. I'm not happy. I'm miserable. I'm a stranger in my own skin and I hate it. I hate being scared all the time and I hate being Agency property and I hate reliving the most devastating moments of my life every freaking night but you know what, Bobby? There's nothing I can do about it. I can jump off a bridge, I can slit my wrists or I can come home and have a few mind-numbing beverages. It's the only thing that helps, Bobby," Darien says, out of breath.

Bobby is startled by Darien's confession.

Darien looks away. "God, I'm really wasted."

"And you're really hurt, too. You need to get some sleep, partner," Hobbes remarks.

Darien pulls himself to his feet and makes it to his bed.

Claire is nearby, cleaning the apartment.

Darien closes his eyes, the alcohol and his exhaustion overtaking the pain.

"He's gonna hurt like hell when that liquor wears off. I'm amazed he made it up here," He hears Claire say, quietly.

"I think that knife is the least of his worries," Bobby whispers and Darien falls asleep.

Darien is safe. He is safe and peaceful and then the blood red nightmare shatters across his psyche.

"Darien, shh, it's just a bad dream…its just a dream," He hears and he feels arms embracing him. He accepts the British voice and returns to sleep.

He wakes up with sunlight on his face. His stomach hurts, his chest hurts and his head hurts. He groans.

"Morning, Darien."

"Hey, Claire. Did you stay all night?" Darien asks. She is sitting beside him on the rumpled bed.

She nods. "Bobby's coming by later. Can I look at your wound?"

The night before resurfaces in his memory and he winces. "I really did it this time, didn't I?"

She smiles slightly. She pulls up his shirt and fumbles gently with his bandages. She nods, satisfied and pulls his shirt back down.

Darien doesn't know what to say.

Claire brings him a glass of water and several pills. "Here. Aspirin and vitamins. I don't want to give you anything stronger until more of the alcohol is out of your system."

He nods. He swallows the pills.

Claire sighs. "Darien. About me and Kevin…"

"I don't want…" He starts.

"You are going to listen to me," She says, sternly. "I came onto this project without knowing about Kevin. When I saw your name, I thought it was a coincidence and by the time I saw Kevin's name, I was already involved. I'm the Keeper. I have no name, no past, no personal life. If I were to tell you that I dated your brother, my entire cover would be compromised and I would be removed by the Agency." She pauses.

"I care about you, Darien. When…when Kevin was in your body…a lot of things came back to me. We were in love but we were also scientists. When we graduated, we both went into different directions, into agencies where we weren't allowed to contact our past connections. When I found out Kevin was dead, it was right when I met you."

Claire leans forward. "I don't know how I can make you understand. I want to help you and I think that I can. If anyone finds out that I used to date your brother, I get removed, sent to another corner of the world, to another basement lab. When Kevin said those things in front of Hobbes, I didn't know what to do." She sighs. "At the end of the day, when it boils down to telling you about Kevin and me or being in your life, I have to choose the second."

Darien has trouble processing the information. Claire has her hand on his and she seems sincere. In reply, Darien vomits off the opposite edge of the bed.

Claire goes to get something to clean the vomit giving Darien a chance to reflect.

She didn't tell him because she doesn't want to leave him. Does he believe that? Darien's mind is too cluttered to decide. He pulls the covers over his head and tries to find sleep again.