This fic is just Darien's thoughts during that scene from "Flowers for Hobbes." I wrote it because that scene is one of my all-time favorite scenes. Also, I just wanted to see what was running through Darien's head as it happened.

SACRIFICE
by ReySolo

As I plunge the syringe into my leg, a thousand thoughts run through my head. What if this doesn't work? What if Bobby's so far gone that he isn't really Bobby anymore? Even if he tells us, will the Keeper be able to synthesize the cure in time? What if what cures me doesn't cure him? What if both of us die? What other choice did I have?

I feel the sting as the fluid rushes into my vein. It's totally different from the normal prick of my counteragent injections; more burning, almost searing. I hope that doesn't mean it's working too quickly. I wonder what's going on behind the one-way mirror; the Official must be going bonkers right now. At this point, I don't really give a damn.

I keep my eyes on Bobby's face the entire time. His eyes keep darting from keeping eye contact with me to staring at the needle that just injected the solution into my leg. I can't quite tell what his thoughts are. His face holds a desperation, a terror, but is he more terrified of losing his newfound genius, or of what's going to happen to me? 'You would die for me, Bobby.' The words I used a few moments ago echo in my mind. I do know that Bobby Hobbes, my friend, my partner, would die for me, but is he still the man who sits before me?

I start to feel a little dizzy. I don't know whether it's from the serum, or from the intensity of the moment. I try to push those thoughts away and concentrate on Bobby.

There are tears in his eyes. A second before he does it, I know his decision. He turns to the mirror, knowing Claire is watching intently from behind the glass, and rattles off a bunch of scientific technobabble that I'm not entirely positive even she can understand. He then turns back to me, tears threatening to fall as he states, "I can't believe you did that, partner..."

For a moment I don't know whether to apologize or cry or jump for joy. I'm barely thinking as I reply, "Neither can I." Regaining some thought, I yell, "CLAAAAIRE!"

Less than second later, she bursts into the room, shouting, "I can synthesize that enzyme!"

I jump up and race after her toward the lab. "Will you get this stuff outta me!" As I leave, I know I sound desperate, yet I feel a strange confidence that Bobby has saved us both.

I have to wonder, though: which of us offered the greater sacrifice?

fin