A Double Edged Sword
By Carol M.
Rating: G
Summary: Darien's thoughts as he goes to sleep
Spoilers: None
Disclaimers: I don't own them, I just play with them
Notes: This is not part of the Devil's Silver Series. My computer crashed,
and I lost the next part that I had been working on for the series. Not to
worry, I will rewrite it and post it soon. In the meantime, this is something
I came up with while I was stuck in the tutor room at school for three hours. 
Hope you enjoy!

 I sit on my bed, thinking. My quote book lies next to me, tossed
casually aside as if I'm thinking about such trivialities as what to have for
dinner or what shirt to wear tomorrow.
 The madness. I have to be honest, it terrifies me. Maybe that surprises
you. What did they say in that chick flick Steel Magnolias, that an old
girlfriend dragged me to. "Men are supposed to be made out of steel or
something." Well, guess what folks, we're not, or at least, I'm not.
 Madness is like being drunk. In the moment, it feels wonderful. You never want the feeling to end. Such freedon, such happiness, such joy, such bravery. You can do anything, I mean anything, you want.
 For me, all my inner demons rise to the surface. Those dark fantasies that everyone has, but no one ever talks about. Madness gives me the courage to rape and pillage, to destroy anything in my path because I can.
 No pain, no guilt, no regrets. Life without a conscience. Thinking about it now while I'm completely sane makes chills go down my spine. It scares me, but to be honest, it also excites me at the same time.
 I often wonder what my friends really think of me. Hobbes. How does he
decide to get out of bed and work with a partner who at the drop of a dime
might go wacko and kill him? Is he afraid of me? Or does he value my
friendship strong enough that he just sees it as an unfortunate flaw, like
someone who talks incessantly or constantly borrows money?
 Does he know how much he means to me? To have a friend that sticks by you no matter what is something I have never had until now. Somehow that cocky, bald agent gets me and I get him. They say that opposites attract and I guess our partnership is no exception.
 Claire is an entirely different story. Her job is to keep me, like a lion in a zoo cage. She feeds me, takes care of me and disciplines me.
 I like her. I could even love her one day. But I hate her too. I hate
being dependent on her I hate giving up power and not being in control But if I lose her, it's all over for me. She is the keeper of my sanity, Without her, I am a maniac sailing into the abyss of insanity.
 I used to think she saw me as an animal, that she saw me as a gland and not as a person. She would relish giving me the shots or in some cases, not giving me the shots. It was a way for her to have power in this world.
 Slowly, but surely however, my charm and good looks got to her. When she
looks at me, she sees Darien and not just a gland. She likes me and she cares about me as a person and not just as an experiment.
 The Offical and Eberts come to mind. The boss and his lackey. To the
Official, I will always be a gland, a means to an end, a way for him to get
what he wants. Eberts could be more than that. The guy has heart. I like the little guy. If he ever got the guts to stand up for himself, he would be one hell of a leader.
 Arnaud. The one person is this world that I truly hate, the person who
gave me this disease of insanity. He took my brother's life and my freedom. 
In madness, I would not hesitate to kill him. But sane, I'm not so sure. Do I have the guts to kill him? I ask myself that all the time.
 I guess that's the difference between him and me. He can kill without
hesitation and I can't. Maybe that makes me weak or maybe, it makes me strong. Who knows? I certainly don't.
 My eyes start to close and then an image of Kevin pops into my head. I
often think about Kevin right before I fall asleep. The brother I had, but
never really knew. I wonder how things would have turned out if he had lived.
	Maybe the gland would be out of my brain and I would be living a normal life. Maybe we would live next door to one another and play basketball every night. I guess I will never know.
 I think Kevin would be proud of me. I'm using the glad for good, trying to help people. Not that I had much choice in the matter. The funny thing is, if the Agency didn't hold counteragent over my head or if I didn't have to worry about the madness, I probably would've done the job voluntarily.
 A life without madness, a life without counteragent, a life without fear. 
It's a dream that might never come true. But it gives me hope. But for all
this hope and for all the good I do with the gland, I know the madness is
always lurking behind the corner, enticing me, calling my name. It's a
double-edged sword.
	Maybe Hobbes is right, maybe I do over think things. This is my lot in life and there's nothing I can do about it. But that doesn't mean I can't feel sorry for myself.
 Sleep slowly starts to claim me. These depressing thoughts start to exit
my head and I think of more enjoyable things. Will Hobbes and I once again
discuss the female characters of Gilligan's Island? Will Claire wear those
black boots that I love so much? Only tomorrow will tell.
 
 end