While I'm not completely happy with this fic, these might turn into a trilogy. This contains spoilers for the pilot. Seeing as I have not seen the pilot, if I get any of the information wrong you can just pretend I got it right.

            "Hey guys," said Claire opening the door to let her friends into her house. Alex and I thought you weren't going to make it."

            "We would have been here half an hour ago but SOMEONE hogged the shower."

            "Sorry, it felt good."

            "Doesn't matter now. I've made some popcorn. There's beer and drinks in the fridge.  You've got ten minutes before the show starts."

            "This is going to be so awesome."

            "I hope so." The two shot Darien a look. Ten minutes later they were all seated on the coach eagerly awaiting the start of their stardom. Darien squirmed uncomfortably as he watched the scenes of him breaking and entering. It was one thing for his friends to know he'd been a thief and another thing entirely for them to sit and watch his look-alike committing his crimes. They all knew the actors were going to bare a remarkable resemblance to them from the pictures but to actually see them on the television was amazing. For some of the scenes, Darien wouldn't have been able to identify himself from that Ventresca guy. He shuddered lightly at the courtroom scenes. Hobbes reached over and rubbed his shoulder lightly.

            "Kyle," whispered Darien longingly as David Burke walked onto the screen. The image of someone who looked so much like his brother filled him with yearning. He could not stop himself from moving forward to brush his fingertips against the screen. Claire exchanged worried glances with Alex and Bobby. No one had even considered how watching this was going to affect Darien. The ordinary stresses of his unwanted lifestyle were already stretching the limits of what he could bare so there was no telling what watching something like this would do to him.

            "Come and sit with us again," said Alex scooting closer to him once he was on the couch again. He did not even notice that his friends were practically sitting on him. He watched the show in silence not even taking his eyes off of the television for commercials. He was mesmerized at the unfolding story. Parts of it were etched into his memory forever as vivid as they day they had happened. Other parts he'd forgotten or had never known. As the pilot progressed, he could only watch in horror as he saw himself going into quicksilver madness.  He'd never seen himself in that state. His stomach began to churn and revolt. The look of terror in the eyes of the woman he was attacking was the final touch that sent him running for the bathroom. Within seconds, everything he had eaten was on its way back up.

            "You OK, partner?" asked Hobbes handing him a glass of water.

            "Did I really do that?"

            "Darien…"

            "I did. Oh God." He began shivering as tears flowed down his cheeks.

            "It wasn't you. It was the madness. You couldn't help it."

            "How can you let me walk around knowing how dangerous I can be? I should be locked up or something."

            "That's not a normal reaction, Darien," said Claire standing in the doorway. "We think it has something to do with your body's reaction to hitting a stage for the first time only more powerful because you hit several firsts at once."

            "Why don't I remember it?"

            "That was a very traumatizing time in your life, Darien. There were parts of your experience that you couldn't deal with so you blocked it from your memory."

            "What was her name?"

            "Mara Lynn Keith. She died in the attack on the facility," answered Hobbes quietly. "She did not blame you for the attack." Darien leaned against Hobbes trying to piece himself back together. A few minutes passed before the shaking stopped and he could stand alone.

            "Ready to go back in the other room?" asked Claire watching him. He nodded silently not feeling much like talking at the moment. They walked into the room together but he froze at the first sight of the television. His trembling returned in full strength.

            "I can't. I can't watch him die again," he whispered through the shakes. He closed his eyes against the memories flashing through his head. He heard Hobbes and Claire talking but ignored them.

            "I'm just going to take him home. I'll watch the tape later."

            "Are you sure? I could come over if you'd like."

            "No that's OK. I'll take care of him," answered Bobby placing a hand on Darien's shoulder. "Let's go partner. I'm taking you home."

            "They going home?" asked Alex as Claire came back to the couch.

            "Yeah, Darien didn't want to watch the rest of it."

            "I can understand why. He's been through a lot and watching it can't help. I wouldn't want to watch my family die."

            "I think that it would have been better if Darien hadn't been told about the show until after the pilot.  He doesn't need the added stress."

            "I understand him better now. I couldn't imagine being thrown into this job and being told to sink or swim. I wish I had known all of this when I joined you all."

            "Don't worry about it, Alex. We all understand and you've more than made up for any rocky beginnings." The two friends sat back and watched what was left of the show.

            "Hobbes?" mumbled Darien as his partner picked up the sleeping agent. It wasn't an easy load given the size difference but Hobbes managed to carry his friend into their house. After a lengthy string of pay deductions, the two had pooled their resources and moved in together. They were great roommates, which was unusual among best friends. Bobby placed Darien on his bed and removed his shoes.

            "There you go, partner. Sleep tight," he said as he pulled the blankets up to cover Darien.  Hobbes walked across the hall to his bedroom and flicked on the light. Randomly selecting a book off his bookshelf, he plopped down in a chair and started to read keeping an ear out for Darien. He mentally kicked himself for not thinking about how the show might affect Darien. Things would have been better if he had never found out about Mara Lynn. Hobbes sighed again absently turning a page. Good thing it was the weekend because he had a feeling he was not going to get any sleep tonight.

            He was halfway through the third chapter when he heard a moan from the other room. He hurried across the hall to find his partner struggling with his sheets. Darien whimpered in his sleep and called out for his brother. Hobbes could identify this nightmare now. Darien had it on average once a week. It was his second time this week thanks to that stupid show. Bobby reached over and shook Darien awake.

            "Come on, kid. It's just a bad dream." He felt a shudder run through Darien.

            "Hobbes?" asked Fawkes in a vulnerable, shaky voice.

            "Yeah, partner, I'm here."

            "I couldn't stop them. I can never stop them. Why'd he have to die?" Fawkes buried his face in Hobbes shirt and cried. Hobbes could do nothing but rub his back and murmur reassurances until he fell asleep again. It always amazed Hobbes how child-like Fawkes became when he was awakened in the middle of a nightmare. He sat there guarding his partner in his sleep soothing away disturbances. Eventually he quieted and Bobby fell into a light doze.

            "I'm sorry, Mara. I didn't mean to," mumbled Darien in his sleep waking Bobby from his doze. He wiggled under the sheets trying to get away from his dreams.

            "Calm down, Fawkes. It's just a dream. Shh." Slowly, Darien calmed down and began to sleep easy again. Hobbes kept a running monologue until his voice went hoarse and the sky was beginning to lighten but Darien slept peacefully so he did not mind. Just before Darien began to stir, he went and got in his bed to catch a quick nap. Next week he planned to see the script before letting Darien watch his show. He was too old to be doing this every week.