Darien's dark musings following the events of the "Money for Nothing" episodes
Spoilers: Money for Nothing, parts 1 and 2
Disclaimer: All of the characters contained herein are the property of USA networks, Stu Segall Studios, Sci-Fi Channel, or someone else who isn’t me.
I went back there today. To apologize to them. To ask their forgiveness for the pain I inflicted.
Thanks to the Official's cover story, they were all outwardly sympathetic. They'd been told I'd been drugged, against my will, by criminals. That I wasn't responsible for my actions. On the surface, they all seemed to believe it. But underneath, behind their eyes, I could still see the fear. And I don't blame them a bit. It echoes my own.
No one else holds me responsible for my actions. But me, I know better. The darkness, the violence, the madness--they all live inside me. The quicksilver only tears down the walls that society built in my mind, the walls called compassion, and conscience, and empathy.
Every time I go quicksilver mad, I am reminded of the fact that I am, beneath the veneer of civilization, a violent, cruel, and sadistic creature.
They think I don't remember. Claire. Bobby. The Official. They're hoping I've forgotten what I learned about their plans, about my ultimate fate. They think it would frighten me, drive me away again. Oh, how little they understand.
It was nearly a year ago that I met Charlie Fogarty. Looking in his face, into those eyes that mirrored my own, I saw a hell far worse than any fire-and-brimstone preacher could conceive. A living hell, thirty years spent trapped inside his own mind. I looked at Fogarty, and I saw my own future in my nightmares.
Claire assured me that it would never happen, but I never really believed her until now. I thought she was trying to placate me, reassure me with a comforting lie. It's been my greatest fear ever since.
But now I know. I won't become like him, won't be locked in a cage with my demons as my only company for years on end. If I do someday go over for good, either by becoming resistant to the counteragent or going too long without it, I know now that they'll just put me out of my misery.
It's comforting, in a strange way. I've learned that there are things worse than death.
In the past year, I think I've experienced them all.