Darien lay on the floor in a straightjacket, still drugged and physically passive. His eyes, however, were open and watching her, and she could see the rage and mania and terror boiling beneath their surface. She quickly gave him his dose of counteragent. As it always did when administered after the madness took hold, the injection quickly knocked him unconscious. Claire instructed the nurses to immediately take him out of the straightjacket and move him into the bed in Lab 3.

It was three full days before Darien awoke. The snake tattoo was still partially red after the initial dose of counteragent, so Claire gave him another, smaller dose on the second day. When Darien finally woke up, he was groggy, confused, and not very coherent.

By the next day, however, he was on his feet and pacing back and forth across the lab floor. At lunchtime, his partner walked in the door carrying a tray of food.

"Hobbes," Darien greeted him tentatively, taking the tray and setting it on a table.

"Morning, Fawkes," Bobby replied. "Feeling better?"

"Yes, actually, a bit."

"How much do you remember?"

Darien looked away, embarrassed. "Not much after hitting you, actually. I remember bits with Arnaud, and you shooting me. Though that couldn't have really happened…."

"Actually, I did…I'd brought the Keeper's tranq gun with me when I came looking for you."

"And Arnaud? You got him, right?"

Now it was Hobbes turn to look abashed. "'Fraid not…bastard played possum and caught me by surprise, then knocked me down and disappeared into the woods. Guess I should have let you finish what you started."

Darien sat down on the bed and remained silent for several moments, then shook his head sadly. "While we were driving up there, I went over every possible scenario I could think of in my head. You were right, you know, about what I was thinking out there on the cliffs. When you told me about Arnaud, I changed my mind. I figured if I was going to go insane and kill someone anyway, it might as well be someone who really deserved it. Once I got there, I could only see two possibilities; either he'd kill me or I'd kill him. Didn't seem to matter much which. But either way, I wasn't thinking about anything past that moment. Like what might happen after I killed him. Maybe the quicksilver was already starting to affect me."

Darien looked up and met Bobby's gaze. "I really, truly wanted to kill him, you know, for what he'd done to me, to Kevin, and to Claire. Maybe part of me still does. But I'm not sure I could have lived with myself if I'd managed to kill him that way, in cold blood, even in quicksilver madness. So, I suppose I should thank you. For stopping me. For keeping your promise."

"Well…um…you…you're welcome," Hobbes stammered.

"And I'm sorry I hit you."

"Ah," Hobbes dismissed the apology with a wave. "Barely touched me. Takes more than a little tap like that to take out Bobby Hobbes."

Darien smiled, but didn't argue the point.