FanFiction_OneLastXMasGift

"Are you sure we should do this?" the Keeper whispered to
Hobbes as they approached Darien Fawkes' door. "Maybe he
has plans. Maybe he has company."

"Then we drop off our presents and leave him to his plans or
his company. But he seemed, I dunno, pretty lonely. He
mentioned he used to spend Christmas with his brother
whenever he could."

Claire had no reply to that. Kevin had been Darien's only
remaining family. Of course he would miss him more around
the holidays.

Hobbes knocked, and they waited a little nervously until the
door cracked open. It closed again quickly and faint
scratchings indicated the chain being pulled loose. Darien, in a
scruffy T-shirt and sweats, barefoot, leaned in the doorway.

"What's up, guys? Is there some problem? You need me to --"

"Merry Christmas, Fawkes!" his partner piped up, his Keeper
chiming in a breath later. "Nothing official, we just wanted to
swing by and see if you wanted to join us in a little last-minute
Christmas cheer." Hobbes slipped a bottle partway out of his
coat pocket. Claire frowned at it but didn't say anything, yet.

"Uh, sure, guys, come on in!" Darien looked pleasantly
surprised. Turning from the doorway back to his apartment, he
paused and frowned. "Can you give me a minute to tidy the
place up?"

"Don't go to any trouble, partner. It can't be half as bad as my
place, and besides, I've seen it."

Darien darted ahead of them and scooped up some laundry
from the floor, dumping it on the floor of the closet. He really
didn't have much else to pick up, but he didn't want his Keeper
to have to sit next to his old underwear.

"There's egg nog in the fridge, if you guys want some."

"I'd love a glass, Darien. Thank you."

"And I've got the nog right here," Bobby chimed in, pulling out
his bottle.

Darien grinned. "If you don't mind, partner, I think I'll skip that
part. I've seen what the gland does with the flu, I'm not ready
to try getting it drunk yet."

Claire clearly approved his decision. She herself, on the other
hand, took a big gulp from her egg nog and then filled the glass
back up with the rum.

Darien pulled out two small packages, handing one to each of
them. "Merry Christmas!"

Hobbes and Claire flashed a smile at each other -- they had
worried that if they brought gifts, they'd leave Darien in an
awkward spot if he had nothing for them, so they hadn't
mentioned their gifts to him. This gave them their excuse.

"Back at'cha, partner!" Hobbes pulled a small box from inside
his jacket, and Claire followed suit with one from her purse.

Darien's gift to Hobbes was little more than an envelope. He
opened it with mild curiosity, which turned to delight.

"A calling card! Darien, this is so cool!"

"Yeah, well, it's only good for half an hour, but at least you
won't be digging around for change at a critical moment."

Claire couldn't think of anything personal like that Darien
could have gotten her. She actually squealed with surprised
delight when she opened her present.

"Darien, I didn't even realize they had a new album out!"

"Consider it a Christmas present and an apology all in one."
The CD was from the same group Darien had heard blasting on
her stereo during his little unauthorized foray into her house.
"For how I found out you like them, that is."

"I already forgave you, Darien. Now, open your presents!"

Hobbes' present was a pair of sunglasses, just like a pair Darien
had been admiring in a store window a few weeks before. His
old pair had gotten smashed in the line of duty.

"So when you go all freaky on me, I don't have to look at those
weird eyes of yours," he joked.

It was obvious from the shape of Claire's present that it was a
videocassette. Darien unwrapped it with great curiosity. What
would the Keeper have on tape? He laughed aloud when the
tape turned out to be "Harvey," starring Jimmy Stewart.

"And," she added, reaching into her pocket, "I brought
something for your tree." She pulled out a little figure hanging
from a string. Darien caught it up, and discovered it was an
Invisible Man action figure, dressed in trenchcoat and wrapped
in bandages.

"It's perfect!" he said, going over to the tree to hang it in a
prominent spot.

Claire caught sight of something on a shelf behind Darien.
"Ooh, hey, looks like you forgot one."

"Better open it soon, partner, 'cos Christmas is over in...thirteen
minutes!"

Darien glanced behind him at the small package on the shelf,
and flushed. "Um, actually, I wasn't going to open that one
tonight."

"Why not? It's Christmas!"

His head ducked down and his cheeks got redder, but his tone
remained casual and unapologetic. "I've been doing it since I
was a kid. Kevin and I used to compete to see who could be
the last to open a present. It got so we were saving the last
ones for weeks. And when I was in juvie, away from my
family, they'd pass out these stupid little presents, like ties for
the boys and bows for the girls, and I'd leave mine wrapped as
long as I could, even though I could see what was in it from
what everyone else got.

"I guess it's turned into a way to keep Christmas going a little
longer, make the fun and anticipation last. And a way to
remember Kevin in the good times, the happy times." He
turned the little package over in his hands, then set it firmly
back on the shelf. "I know what's in it, and I don't need it right
now, so why not?"

"Aww, I think that's very sweet, Darien!" Claire reassured him.

Hobbes polished off the last of his eggnog. "Well, partner, feel
like watching that video tonight? Or were you heading for
bed?"

"Um, actually, much as I'd love to stay up, I doubt I could keep
my eyes open for it. Maybe another night?"

"Sure thing, Fawkes. I should probably be heading for bed too,
now, before all the eggnog catches up with me."

"You've got a couple of days before you need to see me, right,
Darien?" The Keeper asked, glancing at his wrist.

"Easily. As long as the fat man doesn't call, that is." Darien
smothered a yawn, but it showed in his eyes. "Drive safe, both
of you. And merry Christmas!"

Once they'd safely gone, Darien sank back onto his couch. His
gaze was inevitably drawn to the last Christmas present. He sat
staring at it for several minutes.

It was well past midnight now. Somehow, it hadn't seemed
right to open *this* package on Christmas, and he definitely
didn't want to open it in front of his partner or especially his
keeper. He wasn't even sure he wanted to open it at all.

Darien carried the little box over to the breakfast counter in his
kitchen, slowly removing the genericly festive wrapping paper
to reveal a small cardboard shipping box. He pulled out a
paring knife and slit the heavy tape at either end, being careful
not to damage the contents. Tilting the box gently, he slid out
a small case.

*Why did I do this?* he thought to himself. *Why did I even
order these?*

The answer was simple, of course. He'd been in the early
stages of Quicksilver Madness. What really puzzled him was
why he hadn't cancelled the order once he'd gotten a fix of
counteragent. Why he'd left things alone all these weeks, why
he didn't stop it.

On the lid of the case was the name of an expensive contact
lens maker in Europe. They did mostly regular contacts and
colored contacts, but had developed a strong sideline supplying
the theatrical trade and Hollywood with specialty lenses. Eyes
for vampires, space aliens, and zombies were often as not
ordered from them.

He'd told them some sob story over the phone, about a chronic
medical condition, which he supposed was true enough as far
as it went. It was actually an easy order, a combination of two
types of product they were quite skilled at making, just not in
the usual combination.

Slowly, his hands shaking slightly, he raised the lid of the case.
Looking back at him, in clear plastic holders, floating in saline
solution, were his eyes.

His normal eyes. Pupils average size, irises with green directly
around the pupils and brown from there to the outer edges, the
sclera a healthy white with tiny blood vessels just visible.

Unlike regular colored contacts, these contact lenses would
cover his entire eye, hiding that nasty red color that spread and
deepened the further into madness he sank. They would allow
him to fool his friends, his colleagues, his enemies, into
thinking he was perfectly normal. Even the pupils were
darkened, like tiny sunglasses, to help hide his own pupils
when they were constricted with the fifth stage.

He walked over to the sink, turned on the water, started the
disposal, all the while his eyes never straying from the other
pair of eyes looking wetly back at him through the plastic. He
opened the inner plastic and stood staring at himself for several
minutes. Then he slowly reached up and switched the disposal
back off.

Finally tearing his eyes away, he glanced around the apartment.
He snapped the case shut again, the contacts kept safe in their
little saline-filled pockets. He pulled several books off the
bookshelf, filling his arms, and carried them into his bedroom,
dropping them on the floor in front of his dresser.

Setting the case carefully on the bed first, he stacked up the
books in different combinations until he had a stack just
slightly higher than the bottom edge of his dresser. He began
restacking them under the edge near the right front leg, until
one book was left with not quite enough room to slide it into
place on top.

Shifting his weight, he leaned against the dresser, tilting it
towards the wall, until the front edge came up just enough to
slip that last book into place. As he lowered the dresser back
to vertical, the front feet were left hanging slightly above the
floor. The weight now off of it, he tapped the right front leg
towards the right end of the dresser with the heel of his
sneaker. The top of the leg was fitted into a little track so that
it could only move the one direction, and only when all weight
was off of it. It slipped out of place easily, revealing a hollow
space within. A special lining ensured that anyone looking for
hollow spots would hear the same thunk on this leg as on the
other three.

He stared at the case another long moment, trying to get up the
nerve to smash it, to hurl it across the room, to bring it to
Claire or Hobbes and ask them to keep it away from him for
God's sake. He did none of these things.

*Options,* he thought miserably. *In my life, I don't have
many options.*

Using these would be a betrayal, and it would be dangerous.
The only time he would need them would be when he was out
of control and more in need of his colleagues and, yes, his
friends, than ever before. It would put them and the rest of the
world in grave danger from what he might do.

And yet....

Sighing, he slipped the case inside the hollow leg and slipped it
back into its proper place. He tilted the dresser back and
knocked over the stack of books with his toe, then lowered it
and began gathering up the books to return them to his shelves.

Darien made a mental note to buy something small he could
show up with at work in a few days. Maybe a new watch, or a
ring. Even if they didn't ask and he didn't say anything, he
knew they would remember and assume that was what had
been in his last unopened Christmas present. One more lie,
one more little betrayal. *To go with all their lies and
betrayals to me,* he told himself, but the thought was hollow.

That night, though his tattoo was still mostly green, Darien's
dreams were dark and tinted the red of madness.