Timeline: After "Mere Mortals", and we make our divergence right before "Possessed". Gonna move on in the vein that the show was progressing in, since it seems to be going along with my original idea from a few weeks back.
Notes: I'm creating my own divergance from the IM cannon, and I do hope to continue with this to make a series (Yeah, I'm being ambitious...). I suppose I need to have my Fawkes even if the series is completely scrapped. (Curse you, Scifi!!!!) This is my first IM fanfiction, but by no means my first fanfiction. You can check out my stuff on my website (http://www.geocities.com/fatjaxfatjax) if you decide that you kinda like my writing or you're just nosey.
Disclaimer: I don't own Darien (dangit) or the rest of the I-Man universe; I'm just having some fun with 'em. Any new characters, however, are property of me, Medina, and I highly doubt that anyone'll want to steal my original characters, but I thought that it would sound cool to claim ownership. And without further ado, the fic...
Written By Medina
I think it was E. M. Forster who said, "We must be willing
to let go of the life we have planned, so as to have the life
that is waiting for us." Now, I can bet you with sure winning
odds that my life today is not what I had planned for myself
just two years ago. Granted, the plans that I had weren't the
most well thought-out, or plausible, usually having something
to do with owning my own caribbean island after I finally made
that 'big score' that watching "Ocean's 11' too many times
had quite possibly influenced. Oh, and there was always a blond
in a skimpy white bathing suit; can't forget that.
As they say in the movie business, I've ended up with the "reworked"
version of my scripted future. For example, there is actually
a blond, and there is a part of my life that's like a plot. However,
the blond prefers a white lab coat to a skimpy swimsuit, and as
charming and beautiful as she is, is more interested in sticking
needles in my body than frolicking on a Caribbean beach with me.
The movie plot? That could either be my partner, Bobby Hobbes,
who would have been an excellent replacement for Mel Gibson in
the movie "Conspiracy Theory", or my little 'augmentation'
here inside my skull that renders me invisible, and we all know
what film I'm talking about.
Yup, this has been my life, in a nutshell, ever since I traded
San Quentin for Quicksilver. Funny how my ticket to freedom turned
out to be just a different form of imprisonment. Tied to my Keeper's
lab, like a dog on a chain, the links made of the time between
my doses of Counteragent, which prevents this minor, little side-effect
of the gland on my personality -- namely, my transformation into
a remorseless sociopath with homicidal and suicidal tendencies.
OH yeah, good ol' QSM.
And so to cover the costs of my little 'habit', I've been made
monkey to the Agency, which takes advantage of my talents -- well,
talent, singular -- for their dirty work.
Monkey. Dog. Guinea pig. Lab Rat. Monster. Take your pick;
I'm any of 'em and all of 'em.
So now that we're all up to date on my amazing transmogrification
abilities, we can move on to new business. I got the chance to
be a man again about a month ago; Claire had come up with some
new chemical that suppressed the QS gland, and thereby it's side-effects.
My chain had been cut, the monkey-hat taken off, the monster
shoved under the bed. It was great. For a while.
Let's recall what Mr. Forster said about letting go of our
former plans and apply to this situation: up until that point,
there had always been some glimmer of hope sitting in the back
of my mind that I would one day, after this whole gland thing
was over and done with, be able to go back to being Darien Fawkes,
Free Spirit and Private Citizen extrodinaire, with enough anonymity
that I might be able to pull off a few jobs if I ever felt the
urge for some good ol' B&E. This, my friends, is a good
example not being willing to let go. When I finally got that
taste of being 'normal' Darien again, got close to touching that
hoped-for plan I could finally see that those plans had crumbled
to dust long ago; my grip had been so hard that I hadn't noticed
that I was trailing something dead around with me everywhere.
What had really reached out and slapped me into submission
was that even as 'normal' Darien, I still wanted to be doing the
things that QS-Darien did, like participate in my Job at the agency.
I screwed that one up good; almost got me, Bobby and Alex killed.
My reasoning, after I actually considered why I had acted in
the first place was that I just wanted to be with the people that
mattered in my life and doing the job that was the only reason
that I had been allowed to exist for the past two years.
My response to my reasoning: Crap. There is no 'normal' Darien
'Normal' Darien had nothing tying him down, not even his girlfriend
kept him from his less than noble, but fun an exciting ambitions.
He could sneak around unnoticed, could disappear (not literally...)
for days and no one would notice. He could live where he wanted,
leave when he wanted, and was responsible for no one but himself.
He had friends, but he was able to keep them from sharing in
his troubles and getting too close, as they might tie him down.
And, 'normal' Darien still had a brother with whom he could still
hold a two way conversation.
There I was, sitting dazed in the wreckage of my life. I've
been sitting here for two years thinking that I could drive on
in the same direction if only I could get back in gear, blind
to reality: my plans were totaled. My previous life was negated,
those dreams and plans nothing more dust on the road behind me,
and all that I could see ahead was being continually indentured
to the Agency so that the gland wouldn't kill me, or being killed
because of the gland.
And I'm still here, wallowing in my dead future, not wanting
to leave, wishing desperately that I had died with them, with
my dignity, with my hopes.
Suffice it to say, this has landed me smack in front of a sign that says: "Welcome to Depressionville; population: You."
(And we will have chapter 1 when I have time to write it...)