Darien paused in the doorway to the padded room. He just couldn't make himself go any further. Not with the Keeper there, waiting, straightjacket in hand. His partner stood behind him, ready to comfort him, or push him, or catch him if he fell in another attack.
Everyone was looking at him with such pity. It was really starting to piss him off.
Darien realized that, for all the time he'd spent in this room, for all the times he'd woken up there, he had never before voluntarily allowed them to put him there. He stared at the straightjacket. Around the lump in his throat, he squeezed out a few words. "Uh, hang on." he glanced from one to the other. "Are you sure we have to do this now? I mean, come on, it's not --"
He saw Hobbes getting tense, and realized his partner was ready to fight him if he had to, to keep him from leaving. He had no choice. The thought angered him enough he was almost ready to fight, just to show he wasn't going to go out meekly, like a lamb to the slaughter.
Then the attack hit him. A burst of pain in the back of his head, hitting hard and fast. He staggered, hand flying to his head, and slumped against the doorway.
They both ran to him, helping support him but also moving him inside, into that room where he did not want to go. They were talking, something soothing but firm, but words were beyond him. They couldn't get through the red haze of pain.
He tried to fight, tried to pull away, to run, escape the trap, but another wave of pain brought him to his knees, then crashing down onto his side, curled in a ball of agony.
He knew there was only one way to stop it. Not the pain, because that would only get worse. But the suffering it caused, that would vanish when the madness took over. He wouldn't care, in that crimson freedom.
He could feel the rest of his body only dimly, but he knew they'd be putting the cursed straightjacket on him, hating themselves for it all the time. The voices of madness whispered that if he gave in, he could catch them unawares, break free and escape.
They were so seductive. The relief was so tempting. But part of him was still aware that he didn't want to hurt anyone, that his friends were in danger if he surrendered. That part fought on, blindly, clinging to sanity by bleeding fingertips, until finally a tidal wave of pain and madness rolled through his head, too strong to fight, and he was washed away in its undertow, a tiny voice in his mind still screaming....
The jacket was on him, but they were still working on the buckles in the back. Darien rolled from his side onto his back and brought his feet up against Hobbes' chest in one smooth motion, shoving him away and into the edge of the doorway with a madman's strength.
Claire's hand was trapped beneath his body for a critical moment, the buckle she'd been working on digging into the skin painfully. He'd rocked back with the kick, and now he let the momentum of rebound carry his head upward, slamming his skull into her face. His Keeper fell backwards, off balance, her nose bleeding.
He twisted onto his side, then over onto his knees, and tucked his feet under and rose with a feral grace he could never manage when he was himself and full of doubts and fears.
Again momentum carried him forward, towards his partner, and he swung one leg back for a vicious kick. His only thought now was of escape.
Hobbes, flat on his back, saw his opening and swept a foot against the leg Darien now balanced on, hooking it towards him and pulling the madman off balance so that he fell backwards. Back into the room.
They were both back up in an instant, facing each other warily.
"I don't want to hurt you, partner!" Hobbes cautioned, hands in guard position, weight on the balls of his feet, ready to move to attack or defend.
"Good!" Fawkes growled, putting his head down and charging. His momentum was harder to counter than a kick or punch would have been. Hobbes dodged to the side, pushing Darien forward into the wall, using that momentum against him. He hit the padding and bounced off, but didn't lose his footing.
Hobbes stood between Darien and the doorway, panting. His worried eyes looked directly into Darien's crimson ones. Darien smiled. He rolled his shoulders, and the straightjacket loosened around him. He charged again, trying to carry them both out the doorway with the impact.
Just before he reached Hobbes, his arm pulled free of the tie behind his back, and his fist, within the long sleeve, drove hard into the older agent's stomach.
Hobbes countered just a little too late. He staggered, the wind partly knocked out of him, but didn't go down. Fawkes didn't hesitate, sweeping Hobbes' legs and hitting his kidneys with the other fist. Hobbes dodged back, off-balance, the only direction he could, out the door and into the hallway.
Darien was moving fast. He swung his right arm, the buckle on the end of the long sleeve swinging out, its edges gleaming. Hobbes was forced back another step dodging it.
It gave Darien just enough room. He bolted to the left, into open hallway. He felt the thrill of adrenaline, let it call up the quicksilver. It flooded out of his pores, covering him, wrapping him in its warm coccoon even as he ran. He laughed at Hobbes, shouting after him, at the Keeper calling his name.
Then he felt a sharp pain in the back of one thigh, and looked down to see a black dart protruding from the silver which had not yet faded to nothingness.
He looked back in cold fury to see his Keeper lowering the tranquilizer gun. He snarled inarticulately, took a step forward. His second step wouldn't hold him, and he fell to his knees. He comforted himself that at least he'd gotten to hurt them a little before they could capture him. Then sleep overtook him and he wasn't even aware of their hands as they broke his fall and eased him to the floor.
Everyone was looking at him with such pity. It was really starting to piss him off.
Darien realized that, for all the time he'd spent in this room, for all the times he'd woken up there, he had never before voluntarily allowed them to put him there. He stared at the straightjacket. Around the lump in his throat, he squeezed out a few words. "Uh, hang on." he glanced from one to the other. "Are you sure we have to do this now? I mean, come on, it's not --"
He saw Hobbes getting tense, and realized his partner was ready to fight him if he had to, to keep him from leaving. He had no choice. The thought angered him enough he was almost ready to fight, just to show he wasn't going to go out meekly, like a lamb to the slaughter.
Then the attack hit him. A burst of pain in the back of his head, hitting hard and fast. He staggered, hand flying to his head, and slumped against the doorway.
They both ran to him, helping support him but also moving him inside, into that room where he did not want to go. They were talking, something soothing but firm, but words were beyond him. They couldn't get through the red haze of pain.
He tried to fight, tried to pull away, to run, escape the trap, but another wave of pain brought him to his knees, then crashing down onto his side, curled in a ball of agony.
He knew there was only one way to stop it. Not the pain, because that would only get worse. But the suffering it caused, that would vanish when the madness took over. He wouldn't care, in that crimson freedom.
He could feel the rest of his body only dimly, but he knew they'd be putting the cursed straightjacket on him, hating themselves for it all the time. The voices of madness whispered that if he gave in, he could catch them unawares, break free and escape.
They were so seductive. The relief was so tempting. But part of him was still aware that he didn't want to hurt anyone, that his friends were in danger if he surrendered. That part fought on, blindly, clinging to sanity by bleeding fingertips, until finally a tidal wave of pain and madness rolled through his head, too strong to fight, and he was washed away in its undertow, a tiny voice in his mind still screaming....
The jacket was on him, but they were still working on the buckles in the back. Darien rolled from his side onto his back and brought his feet up against Hobbes' chest in one smooth motion, shoving him away and into the edge of the doorway with a madman's strength.
Claire's hand was trapped beneath his body for a critical moment, the buckle she'd been working on digging into the skin painfully. He'd rocked back with the kick, and now he let the momentum of rebound carry his head upward, slamming his skull into her face. His Keeper fell backwards, off balance, her nose bleeding.
He twisted onto his side, then over onto his knees, and tucked his feet under and rose with a feral grace he could never manage when he was himself and full of doubts and fears.
Again momentum carried him forward, towards his partner, and he swung one leg back for a vicious kick. His only thought now was of escape.
Hobbes, flat on his back, saw his opening and swept a foot against the leg Darien now balanced on, hooking it towards him and pulling the madman off balance so that he fell backwards. Back into the room.
They were both back up in an instant, facing each other warily.
"I don't want to hurt you, partner!" Hobbes cautioned, hands in guard position, weight on the balls of his feet, ready to move to attack or defend.
"Good!" Fawkes growled, putting his head down and charging. His momentum was harder to counter than a kick or punch would have been. Hobbes dodged to the side, pushing Darien forward into the wall, using that momentum against him. He hit the padding and bounced off, but didn't lose his footing.
Hobbes stood between Darien and the doorway, panting. His worried eyes looked directly into Darien's crimson ones. Darien smiled. He rolled his shoulders, and the straightjacket loosened around him. He charged again, trying to carry them both out the doorway with the impact.
Just before he reached Hobbes, his arm pulled free of the tie behind his back, and his fist, within the long sleeve, drove hard into the older agent's stomach.
Hobbes countered just a little too late. He staggered, the wind partly knocked out of him, but didn't go down. Fawkes didn't hesitate, sweeping Hobbes' legs and hitting his kidneys with the other fist. Hobbes dodged back, off-balance, the only direction he could, out the door and into the hallway.
Darien was moving fast. He swung his right arm, the buckle on the end of the long sleeve swinging out, its edges gleaming. Hobbes was forced back another step dodging it.
It gave Darien just enough room. He bolted to the left, into open hallway. He felt the thrill of adrenaline, let it call up the quicksilver. It flooded out of his pores, covering him, wrapping him in its warm coccoon even as he ran. He laughed at Hobbes, shouting after him, at the Keeper calling his name.
Then he felt a sharp pain in the back of one thigh, and looked down to see a black dart protruding from the silver which had not yet faded to nothingness.
He looked back in cold fury to see his Keeper lowering the tranquilizer gun. He snarled inarticulately, took a step forward. His second step wouldn't hold him, and he fell to his knees. He comforted himself that at least he'd gotten to hurt them a little before they could capture him. Then sleep overtook him and he wasn't even aware of their hands as they broke his fall and eased him to the floor.