DiabloCat: I don't actually know too much about the series. But I wanted to write something about how it must feel to know you're going insane. So here it is:

SLIDING

Insanity.

That one word holds a lot of horror in it. That one, eight-letter word inspires images of crazy, drooling madmen with knifes, who go around hunting innocent people for no reason. That's the sort of picture it creates for your average citizen.

Let me tell you, it's not like that. It's nothing like that. That image is so wrong it isn't funny. And how would I know? It's simple.

I am insane.

Well, not all the time. Sometimes I'm normal. Sometimes I'm your average guy, reading, watching TV, playing cards – normal stuff. I treasure those moments. They become more precious as time goes by. Because eventually, they won't exist. I'll be permanently stuck in my other half.

You see, the other half of the time, I'm mad. Crazy. Insane.

I don't do it on purpose. God no. I don't have a choice. I'm a science experiment gone wrong.

You have no idea what it's like unless it's happening to you. Deep down, you know what's going on. You try to stop, but it's impossible. That little bit of sanity is too far down to make a difference. The madness is in control.

It's not like another personality surfacing. It's still me. Just a totally unreasonable, maniacal me. One that doesn't really care if someone gets hurt. One that feels the agony of knowing you are insane, and wants to – needs to – get it out. Usually in violent ways.

I wasn't born like this. Like I said before, I'm a scientific experiment gone wrong.

I have a gland in my head. It lets me go invisible with just a thought. Sounds great, huh? Considering I was a thief, extra great. But it had a drawback. A MAJOR drawback. Stay 'quicksilvered' for too long and I lose control.

It's like a pressure building up inside. From the moment I quicksilver, it starts. And keeps on getting worse. Until, finally, it bursts out. It hurts. Pain digging into my brain. Prickling on my skin, like a thousand needles, or like I'm being slowly roasted. Shudders of pain up and down my spine. And that just makes me madder, more insane.

There's a counteragent. It calms me down. Soothes the pain, brings the sane part out and puts it in control, let's me think clearly again. But it only slows the process. It's not a cure. There's no way out.

And I want a way out. Oh God, I want it so bad it's like a physical pain. I don't want to be able to turn invisible. I don't want to work for the stupid government. The world can go to hell if I can just have my sanity back. I want to stay in control all the time.

Hobbes, my partner, tries to help. But he can't truly understand. It's impossible. It must be hard for him, working with a guy who could turn on you without notice. But he copes pretty well. It's just that I doubt I am.

I said before that normal moments mean a lot to me. I cling to memories. Safe ones. Like when I'm at the park, aged seven. I'm sliding down the slide, shouting with a mixture of glee and terror. And I know I'm going to be okay because, at the bottom, Dad's waiting to catch me. He'll catch me in his strong arms, and I'll be safe.

Well, now I'm sliding down the slide of insanity. And there's no one to catch me at the bottom.

THE END

DiabloCat: Hope you enjoyed it. It's a lot darker than most of my other fics, but a little variety never hurt anyone.