FanFiction

Summary: Darien has to say goodbye to some old friends
Spoilers: Bad Chi
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't own them, only love them
Note: This is something humorous I came up with while I was at the mall this afternoon. Enjoy!

Told from Darien's POV

     I've been dreading this day for weeks. Months even. I roll haphazardly out of my bed and make my way to the bathroom. I turn on the light and check out my reflection in the mirror.
   Look at it, just look at it. Look at that gorgeous head of hair. Brown and shiny, with locks so long they curl under. Even with a severe case of bed head my hair still looks great. God, it's going to be hard to say goodbye. Why did I let Hobbes and the Keep talk me into getting my hair cut?
   My hair is the way I express myself. I've always been kind of a unique soul, and my hair is a great help in illustrating this point. When I'm happy, so is my hair. I take my mousse, gel and hairspray and sculpt my hair into a work of art. When I'm depressed, my hair just kind of hangs there, lucky if a comb is even worked through its thick layers.
   I have to hold back a sniffle as I step into the shower. In a few short hours, most of my hair will be gone. This will be one of our last times together. I decide that even though I am extremely depressed, I will not take it out on my hair. Instead, I will give my hair the five star treatment for our last few hours together, much in the same way a death row inmate gets to eat steak the night before his execution.
   I reach for my bottle of shampoo, which cost $35. My tresses are worth every penny. I carefully pour out a quarter-sized dollop and then lovingly massage it into my hair. I make sure that every strand gets to feel the luxuriousness of this shampoo. When I'm done lathering, I step under the showerhead and close my eyes, letting the shampoo flow off my hair. I watch the bubbles swirling around the drain. For some of these hairs, it will be the last time they will see this sight.
   After cleaning the rest of my body, I reach for the conditioner. This one cost $30. I tell you I would rather go without food then try to live without my beauty products. I just thank god that Mona's Hair and Beauty Supply lets me have a tab at the shop. That's one of the perks of being a regular customer.
   I work the conditioner into my hair in much the same manner as the shampoo. After the designated waiting time, I carefully step under the showerhead once again and rinse the ambrosial lather from my hair.
   I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my body. I step to the mirror and once again check out my 'do. I sigh heavily and pick up my comb, working the tangles out of my hair. Once I'm done with this task, I look at all of my styling products. Mousse, gel, hairspray, Bedhead, the works. Today is a very special day, so I decide to use as many products as possible.
   First I reach for the mousse. I squeeze a large helping into the palm off my hand and work it carefully through my hair. I work it from my roots all the way to the ends, making my hair the biggest it has ever been. After this, I pick up the gel and squeeze a little into my hand. I use the gel to tame my pesky little sideburns. I carefully work theses fine hairs next to my ears into a tiny little curl. Now it's time to set this monster. I pick up the hairspray and drench my entire head with it. I cough from the fumes that have now taken over my bathroom.
   I look in the mirror once more, moving my head from side to side to make sure I didn't miss anything. It looks great. I look like Elvis during his beefy years. Exactly the look I was going for.
   I walk out of my bathroom and change into an appropriate outfit. I decide on my black zip up turtleneck shirt and faded black jeans. I am in mourning and my outfit reflects this mood accordingly.
   I check my watch and see that it is 9 a.m. Me and my boys only have three more hours together. I decide to spend this time with my quote books. Reading quotes always calms me down when life just gets to be too much, and today is no exception.
   I check my watch a few hours later and note that it is 11:45 a.m. I step into my bathroom and once again check out my beautiful mane. Look at it, it's like a work of art. My poor, poor hair. I blow a kiss to my locks in the mirror.
   With a heavy sigh, I reluctantly walk out of the bathroom, grab my car keys and head out to meet the firing squad.
   I drive slowly, wanting to prolong our time together, if even by a few minutes. But all too soon, I'm greeted with the Diego Cutters sign. I park my car at a meter, not even bothering to fill it up with coins. I have other things on my mind right now.
   I march slowly towards the salon, my heart beating rapidly. My head starts to tingle and I think the boys know what's coming. I step into the salon and make myself comfortable in a waiting chair. I watch some teenager getting his hair bleached. How can he put his strands through that?
   "Darien Fawkes," a woman says.
   I stand up with hesitation and eye a small petite woman holding a pair of scissors. The flipper of the switch, the injector of the lethal dose, the masked murderer at the helm of the guillotine. She is the devil.
     She motions me towards the shampoo area. I sit down heavily, pouting. She drapes a towel behind my neck and brings it around to my front. Then she shoves my head into some pitiful excuse for a hair washer. I feel warm water on my head, washing away all of my art from this morning. My head starts to burn once again. I'm sorry guys, I really am.
     She finishes washing my hair and then wraps it up in a towel. She tells me to go sit in one of the cutting chairs. I make my way over to the chair and notice how much it resembles the counteragent chair. Bad things happen in chairs like these.
She takes the towel off my head and combs my hair. Then she picks up the scissors and my heart starts to race. I see the scissors come towards my head in slow motion like angry Jaws of Life ready to tear me apart. I unconsciously move my head away from the scissors, but Edna Scissorhands here pulls it back.
     I hear a snip. Oh god, it's started. Snip, snip, snip, snip. Oh it hurts. I feel like parts of my body are being cutting off. Snip, snip, snip. I whimper slightly and Edna looks at me like I'm crazy. Snip, snip, snip. This goes on for a torturous 15 minutes.
     By the time she's done, I'm exhausted. She adjusts the chair so I can see myself in the mirror. I see a stranger. My hair no longer curls, it just sticks up straight. I look down at the floor and see all my former hair staring up angrily at me. I briefly contemplate asking Edna if I can take the hair home with me as a souvenir, but somehow I don't think that would go over well.
     I quickly get out of the chair and pay her, giving her a crummy tip. Then I drive my crappy car to the Agency. I park the car and quickly head inside, making a beeline for the bathroom. I step inside and instantly go to the mirror. Oh my god, it's gone, it's really gone. I look so young, I look so normal. Tell me again, why did I get my hair cut?
     I saunter out of the bathroom slowly, feeling grief for those former locks that are now in a wastebasket back at the salon. It's only been a half-hour, but already I feel like a part of me is missing.
     I notice Hobbes walking towards me. When he sees my hair, he gives a short whistle of approval. "Looking smooth, my friend," he says. "Guess I can't call you troll head for a few weeks, huh?"
     Go to hell Hobbes, you're just jealous that I still have hair. I glare at him as I walk past him and make my way to the Keep. I take out my keycard, open the door and walk inside. I'm greeted with a scream.
     Claire is standing by the counteragent chair, holding her hand to her heart. "Oh Darien, I'm so sorry. You scared me, I didn't recognize you," she says. I offer up a smile, but nothing more.
     She steps closer to me and checks out my hair. A blushing smile appears on her face. "Wow, Darien you look you look."
     "Really crappy?" I offer up.
     Claire shakes her head. "No, no, Darien �you look very handsome," she says with a sincere smile. Her face turns bright red and she motions me towards the counteragent chair.
     Handsome. Hmmm, maybe this haircut thing wasn't such a bad idea after all.