Dedications: Pionty-ears, (as she's known on deviantArt,) totally saved this story from getting locked into my computer files for years. She basically added to what I already had, her writing style is just what this story needed for a little boost. So I thank her, again and again. She is amazing. Without her, you wouldn't be reading this thing.
ALSO: Serena Inverse (on here and on DA, is also my godsend and whom I want to have my babies, either that or illustrate her first book cover when she becomes a famous author. She's an amazing writer that shamelessly wrote me right out of writer's block and kept Freak (and me) in character and in check when it counted most.
Author's Note: I just want to say I originally wrote this at 3am. So brace yourself. It's been through editing so much though, so it's better now. At least a little bit.
Dexter Douglas had always been called a freak, long before Freakazoid entered—no, crash-landed into his life-so really, whenever something odd or unexplainable happens, people would just shrug and mumble something along the lines of "Yeah, whatever... that's Dexter."
It was probably because of that that nobody actually cared about the insanity that went on within and outside of his mind in the form of his crazed alter-ego. It was an odd thing, but Dexter had accepted long ago what he was, and that he and his other self were going to continue to be quite the exception to every rule out there.
In following with the unexplained insanity, after four years of perfect health, he contracted a cold that completely kicked his ass. As always nobody really seemed to care.
But it didn't start out as an ass-kicking. Two weeks ago he'd just woken up with a stuffed nose. Between then and now he'd continued going to school and fighting crime (if The Lobe's idea of taking over the world by using poppy seeds as weapons could be considered 'a crime') and generally just going on about his life and ignoring the tiny symptoms. Life went on as per normal. Girls avoided him like the plague. Jocks beat him so regularly he could have set his watch to it.
Freak, inexplicably, started becoming oddly more talkative to his other half-but nothing extremely extraordinary happened while Dexter quietly suffered. He figured he would feel ill, go to bed early a few nights in a row, raid some Tylenol Sinus from the bathroom cabinet and he'd be as good as new.
Big mistake.
F!
Dexter tried to focus on the kitchen table one morning before school, but he wasn't wearing his glasses so the table was a blurry mess (though to be fair it was probably a mess anyway) and on top of that the room was spinning, why was the room spinning, and where the heck were his glasses?
He was gonna faint. This was it, this had to be it. He was home alone and no one cared about him and serve him right for wanting help in a time like this…The room came to an abrupt stop, and Dexter felt himself falling back, like he was being swallowed up by something inky and black. He didn't want to go there, he could feel it was a place where one entered and didn't leave as easily as they had come.
He heard a strange, distant, 'thump' and then the side of his head started hurting. Why was the side of his head hurting? He was pretty sure that was an important question…or was it?
"Mrrow?"
"Mr. Chubbikins? Why are you walking on the wall?" Dexter slurred, seeing the cat at a strange sideways angle. His vision was still terribly blurred, and he blinked to try and clear it. Instead, he watched the features of his beloved cat distort to become downright frightening. His teeth seemed bigger and sharper, his eyes were glowing like the fires of hell, and his features were bent in that oh so familiar sadistic grin he'd seen on so many bullies faces just before they dragged him down a hall and stuffed him inside a dumpster. He blinked, his heart racing and adrenaline pumping through his body as the cat approached.
"S-Stay away!"
"Why Dexy?"
"GYA!" The cat is talking with my brother's voice!
"Let's have some fun brother!" It wasn't Mr. Chubbikins speaking anymore, but Duncan, his face appearing and swirling round and round and round, getting closer and closer-
"Make it stop!" He cried, curling up into a ball on the floor and covering his head with his arms. "Somebody make it stop!"
You rang?
Dexter's eyes opened wide. It was an oh-so-familiar, irritatingly cheerful voice, echoing from somewhere within the back of his skull. He suddenly felt the sensation of two hands gripping his shoulders, but for once he didn't find himself automatically tensing his body in preparation for a blow, but relaxing as a feeling of being protected overcame him.
No stupid delirium is crazier than me!
And then something was tugging him back, and the last memory he had before he blacked out was a flash of red, and the sensation of a warmth and security. Freakazoid, he assumed-gently began pulling him back to unconsciousness, which Dexter supposed wasn't exactly like fainting because Freakazoid would be there to take over control once Dexter's mind gave out. It was a little comforting, he thought through his delirious haze, to have a friend who was always there, to take care of him and stuff when he didn't wasn't run around causing trouble. At least, he hoped that Freak was the one pulling his mind away from the proverbial steering wheel and not just himself fainting, or he was going to have an awesome bruise on his body from when he hit the ground or table after passing out.
Freak tugged more and more insistently, gentle but serious in the back of his skull, until Dexter could no longer resist and was practically being carried back to sleep.
"You can stay here, Dex. It's better, and cleaner…well, it might be. Here." Dexter felt himself being laid down on something soft. "There! All comfy cozy. Now I can keep an eye of you. Hope you like Rat Patrol," Freak's voice added.
It felt like a couch. A big couch. He opened his eyes a bit to find himself staring up into blank nothingness—was it actually nothing or was it because he wasn't wearing his glasses? He decided it was probably nothing. It wasn't exactly black, that's why he called it blank instead, because it felt like there weren't any thoughts going on up there. Maybe if Dexter had more strength there might have been, but for now everything was empty around him, darkened and dull. But he felt Freakazoid puttering around on the edges of his consciousness. He could even hear him. He was whistling his own theme song.
What the hell are you doing, Freak? Dexter thought, a crazed chuckle scampering through the front of his brain. He wanted to see Freak, wanted to believe for himself that his 'other side' actually cared enough to be doing all this for him. No dice, Dexter found himself being too tired to keep himself conscious long enough to figure anything out.
He couldn't tell how long he slept, but when he woke he found he was lying on a large couch in a dimly lit room. There was some sort of sound, and he turned his head towards it, seeing a TV with the volume turned down low.
"Rat Patrol?" He murmured lowly, recognizing the signature theme music.
"Oh, you woke up!"
Dexter jerked, turning towards the peppy voice, blinking lazily as he saw that his alter-ego was perched easily on the end of the couch next to his head, lazily munching popcorn as he watched the TV.
"H-How can you be here?" He exclaimed woozily, stopping to sneeze loudly as his cold caught up with him.
"Ick." Freak commented, "Here, blow." He presented him with a box of Kleenex, and Dexter took one automatically, clearing his nose before struggling to sit up.
"How can you be here while I'm here and-and…and where is here?" He finished, trailing off on a rather pitiful note.
"Welcome to the Freakazone!" Freakazoid told him cheerfully.
"The Freak-a-what?" Dexter thought he knew just about everything Freak did, he saw whatever his counterpart did when he was in control, but this was new.
"Oh, it's where I chill out in your mind when you're in control."
"Wait so this is in your-our-head?"
"Yup, pretty cool, huh? Usually you'd be able to see what was going on through here." He said, zapping over to two big black circles that looked suspiciously eye-shaped, "But once you passed out I moved our body into our bed and then let it sleep so…yeah, our eyes are closed."
Our. Dexter thought, the repetition drilling the word into his brain, another reminder that his body was no longer purely his own. He'd accepted that that was his life now, but he still wasn't completely sure how he felt about it.
"Don't you have a place like this when I'm in charge?" Freak asked, reappearing on the couch.
"Uh-" Dexter did, but his was a clinically white room, filled with nothing but the gentle hum and whir of machinery, a lot of computer screens, and one lonely chair in front of a single desk which held a keyboard and mouse. The screens always showed him what Freak was doing. "-Kinda." He finished awkwardly. "You know this place is actually a lot…calmer, then I thought your head would be."
"Hey, I can be calm! This is my quiet place for reflection and deep intellectual thoughts!" He stared at him intently for a moment, as though trying to will his partner into believing him.
Then there was a noise from the TV
"Oh a kitty!" Freak cried, zapping over till his face was an inch from the screen.
"I'm not well enough for this." Dexter said, flopping back on the couch.
"Oooh, someone's feeling dramatic today." Freak said, peering down at his face.
"Why am I here?" Dexter moaned, shivering and blowing his nose again.
"Well, you were kinda Freaking Out, and this time it had nothing to do with me. You were getting all delirious and seeing weird cat-brother bullies so I pulled your mind away, brought it here where I could protect it from the brain-melting fever, then took over, moved our body into bed so it could rest, and came back here to keep an eye on you."
Dexter blinked stupidly, his usually intelligent mind muddled by the cold "You…took care of me?"
"Well duh! We're kinda in this together you know."
"Okay." Dexter murmured, shivering again. The blanket wasn't doing much anymore; it felt like it was getting colder by the second. He sneezed violently, reaching for another Kleenex, and shuddered.
"You're not looking good buddy." Freakazoid commented. "I know…more rest!" Freakazoid promptly shoved his smaller half back down onto the cushions of the sofa. "And tv! And junk food!"
And then Dexter realized that the 'room' where he was wasn't exactly still itself. At first he thought it was his imagination, which it technically could have been, but as Dexter lay on the couch thinking how cold it was and wishing for a blanket, he felt the place's temperature start to climb.
Were those his thoughts controlling the place or was it Freakazoid?
Wow. Someone listening to him. And responding without a snide remark or a punch or a condescending smile. Oh god, there's gotta be a catch, there's always a catch, he thought.
"Aw, don't be such a Debby Downer, Dexter. People care about you! Besides, I can hear you fine! Most of the time. You keep stuff from me all the time but I don't think you know you do, you know? We don't HAVE to talk to understand one another; I just thought picking up on one another's thoughts slash feelings might be a little bit too much for you when you're sick!" Freakazoid chirped and came into view again, apparently done with whatever he'd been fiddling with. Dexter glanced at him wearily as he rambled and let his eyes fall shut. Despite his earlier wish, Dexter didn't want to see his alter-ego anymore, the way he was built or that he was so much taller than Dexter. His confident, friendly air.
"Feeling any better yet?" Freak asked, stepping closer, concern evident in his tone.
"A little," Dexter rasped.
"Hmm." Freakazoid's brows furrowed under his mask, giving him the serious look of concentration as he swept his gaze of Dexter's body, who suddenly felt subconscious about the whole ordeal.
"W-what?"
"Hm? Oh, nothing. It's just…I dunno. You got really sick really fast, you know? Like…almost too fast." Another moment in which Freak said nothing but watched Dexter with a troubled gaze, then he suddenly brightened up and waved away an imaginary dust bunny.
"Course I could just be paranoid because it's you, but whatever!"
Dexter remained silent for a another minute, then gently probed Freakazoid with his own question. "Why?" he asked quietly.
Freak turned all his attention on Dexter. "Why what?"
Dexter rolled his eyes. "Why am I here again?"
Freakazoid sighed in exasperation. "I already told you silly! Well, the place you were headed to when you were passing out certainly wasn't any where you wanted to go! It was a yucky, icky place-bleah! ….Anyway, you're safer here." It was typical of Freak to forget what he was talking about, even in mid-sentence. And in Dexter's current state of mind he let it pass and mulled over something else.
Oh. So he's…trying to protect me? Freakazoid nodded empathically, looking for all the world an eager child yearning for positive reinforcement from their parent.
"Thanks, Freakazoid."
"Yay for me! I did good!" Freak slapped himself on the back and bounced over to Dexter.
Dexter nodded, too sleepy to speak anymore. "Ahhh-chuu!" Dexter suddenly sneezed wetly, the force of the spasm propelling him forward. Great. Even in here he was still sick as a dog. "If I don't stop sneezing-ahhhh-chooo!-I'm gonna blow us both out of my head."
"Probably…or at any rate, scare the hell out of the cat," Freakazoid said, sitting on the edge of the couch.
Dexter glared at him over the box of Kleenex Freak offered him. "You do that enough for the both of us," he sniffled, yanking a tissue from the box. "Mr. Chubbikins isn't going to make it another year if you keep scaring him."
"I know!" Freakazoid chirped, pushing them back. Dexter shivered and moved towards Freakazoid's touch. God, he was so cold, and Freak was so warm, why wasn't Freak sick if Dex himself was? It didn't seem fair but then again, not much in Dex's life ever turned out to be fair. "Ahhh…ahh-chooo!" Dexter sneezed heavily and shuddered.
"Uh…Dex?" Freakazoid looked at Dexter nervously as he sneezed wetly again. "You gonna die or something? Don't, that'd be really inconvenient and really suck cause-"
Dexter stifled a sneeze and shivered. "I'll be fine," the smaller boy smiled weakly, hoping his smile looked convincing enough.
Apparently his acting wasn't good enough. Freak frowned and moved closer to him, putting his arm around Dexter's. He was so warm and solid and... Dex shook himself. "Are you alright?" Freakazoid asked.
Dexter paused, and then shook his head. No, he was not all right. He knew his limits and he knew when he was in trouble and he didn't make a big deal of something unless it was a big deal. And this was a big deal. "Ahhh…CHOOOO!" Dexter sneezed again. This was getting old. He had been propped up against pillows provided by Freakazoid, but the force of the sneeze bent him in half anyway.
"...Gesundheit," Freakazoid said sympathetically, as he pulled Dexter back, to lean against him.
Dexter turned on his side and huddled into Freak's chest, shivering against the cold, relishing the warmth provided by the body next to him. He coughed and snorted against the pressure in his forehead.
"Didn't know your head could hold that much goop," Freakazoid mumbled through a nervous laugh. Dexter didn't respond, just let Freak wind his arms tighter around him, hold him closer. He couldn't really understand Freak's exact thoughts but he felt... worry from him, concern, and something else that he couldn't put a name on.
This is no use, Dexter thought, knowing that Freakazoid would hear him. Please get some rest, so at least one of us is in a healthy state of mind tomorrow.
"AHHHCHEW!" The sneeze exploded out of him, hard, fast and soggy. It took him by such surprise that he didn't have time to catch it, spraying it into Freak's skintight super suit. Before he could even stammer out an apology, Freakazoid was hushing him and pulling him even closer. Dexter blew his nose roughly into a Kleenex, groaning in frustration and dabbing the mess from his alter-ego's super suit. "I hate myself right now…and you probably do too," he mumbled.
"No. But you did remind me a lot of the booger-beast just then, not gonna lie." Freakazoid answered with a chuckle as he pressed another tissue to Dexter's red nose. "Ooh! Or Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer! He's cuter."
"I didn't think I'd get this sick." Again Freakazoid got that look of utter concentration on his face and his entire body went stock still. Then it vanished as quickly as it'd manifested and Freakazoid was smiling again.
"It happens. You probably shouldn't have jogged your mile in gym during that rain shower though, remember?"
Dexter remembered. But he also hadn't had a choice; the coach wasn't going to give him any breaks. He was just a scrawny, uncoordinated geek anyway. Freakazoid had offered to grant him some of his super speed to hurry the process along, but it hadn't made any difference. One of the jocks had tripped him and Dexter had nose-dived into a puddle while wearing shorts and a thin t-shirt. Freak had been ready to 'wrestle' with the guy, but his teacher had ignored it all and hadn't let him shower. Dexter had spent the rest of the day chilled and soaked to the bone.
"Ahhh chu! AhhCHU!"
"I'd better take over fully, Dexter. You need some of that yucky cherry medicine in you."
"AHHHCHU! Ahhh-choo!" Dexter's overly exhausted body shook with each sneeze. He shook his head and held onto Freakazoid. Don't want to lose you. He thought. To his surprise he felt something filter back to him, something not from his side of their brain-something bright and caring.
To his relief, Freakazoid settled back down and combed his fingers through Dexter's hair, that emotion pouring off of him in waves. Dex didn't know what it was but it warmed him in a way that no temperature could. "I'm not going far, Dexter. Just to see how things are going."
"Ahh-chu!" Dexter shook his head again and clung tighter, his lower lip sticking out.
"Aww, Dex. You're so cute." Dexter frowned at the comment, but didn't respond verbally to it.
He was exhausted. He nuzzled a little closer into Freak's chest, closing his eyes, as he felt Freak's consciousness poking around in his own. Instinctively he put up shields, carefully guarding the places he didn't want known, thoughts that belonged to him alone.
"What's troubling you, Dex?" he asked quietly.
Dexter didn't notice the question. "Auughhh!" Dexter groaned in frustration. "I'm so tired! Can't you just let me sleep?" he asked his cold, staring angrily up into the blankness.
Freakazoid withdrew as if he'd been physically hit. "Alright, fine! Geez, Mister Grumpy Gills..." He pulled back mentally too, scooting away from Dex's body as their natural emotional contact was suddenly cut off. That, Dexter noticed.
He propped himself up on his elbows and stared in the direction of Freak's voice."Eh? What's wrong, Freak?"
"I-I was keeping you awake when you should be sleeping. Sorry, Dexter." Freakazoid answered.
Dexter sighed and grabbed Freak's super-suit, tugging him back closer by it. Not your fault, he sent across their bond, relieved when Freak settled back down next to him, holding him close once more. He was surprised, however, to find that emotional shields had been raised in Freakazoid's mind. That was new.
"Is something troubling you?" Dex murmured. It was hardly a question. Obviously something was wrong. It was just a matter of getting Freak to wrench his jaws apart and be serious for more than two seconds of his life.
"No-o-o. You?"
Dexter lay in silence. How could he tell his other half – his alter-ego-what terrified him the most? How could he tell him that he was certain one day Freak would leave him? That he would find someone better to house the insane hero and go just as quickly as he'd come? That he'd get bored of Dexter, that his quick mind would tire of him? How could he delude himself into thinking that Freakazoid would want to stay? He'd lose him by letting go, but on the other hand, he would hurt Freakazoid by not.
"Why…are you-you-ahhhcho! …why are you still here? I'm so sick. I feel like I'm going to die. You should go find someone else before it's too late. Or-or go and live in the internet or something!" He sneezed into his tissue and pulled away from Freakazoid's grasp.
Freakazoid sat up straight. "Now why would I do a crazy thing like that? I mean, trolling on IRC is fun but I'd totally rather be here." Silence, and a wave from across the bond filled with anxiousness. "Leave you Dexter? I couldn't do that…" Freakazoid spoke seriously. "I need you. You need me. I don't care if you're sick as a dog. Which you are. You're only human. I'm not. But that's okay." He jabbed a thumb into his chest, looking proud for a second. "That's why I'm the best person for the job to take care of you! I won't get sick unless it's a computer virus." Freakazoid grinned cockily at his own pun.
"But why? I'm not even a good human," Dexter choked back a knot in his throat. "I'm just a geek! I'll never-it'll be forever until I'm good enough for you. …And-and what if my virus turns into a virus for you? You'll be…" The thought was too frightening to fathom, and his sentence trailed off.
Freakazoid took Dexter into his strong arms, resting his chin on top of Dexter's head. "You ARE good enough for me, right now. If you weren't then I couldn't be here. Okay? And I've got plenty of anti-viruses up right now. It'll be fine."
Secured in his alter-ego's arms, the release of the anxiety made the sneezing stop long enough for Dexter to sleep. The small geek was lulled into blissful unconsciousness by the feel of Freak's chest rising and falling as he breathed—oh, and the end credits to Rat Patrol.
F!
Holding on to his other-half tightly, Freakazoid listened to his soft snores and pondered the question that had made Dexter so worried before.
"Laddy, ye gotta keep an eye on that boy'o yours. He's the only thing ya got connecting ya to the world. Without Dexter, yer nothing more than a common computer glitch," he heard his mentor, Roddy MacStew, in his mind. A flashback. Like in one of those movies, ha-ha.
But didn't Dexter know that? Freakazoid couldn't function without his polar opposite. He'd be like a one without a zero. That was the reason he had manifested into Dexter's mind in the first place. Dexter was so…so unbalanced in a bad way that Freak had been positively drawn to the boy like a moth to a flame. He'd wanted that balance. He'd known the second the internet had established its connection into Dexter when he'd activated the glitch in the chip that he was home.
Maybe Dexter…didn't feel the same way? That made sense. Dexter had a life, a real life, with real people, in the real world. Whereas Freakazoid hadn't even existed before Dexter, Dexter himself had obviously been going on and leading a life on his own without any problem-
No. That wasn't right. Freakazoid remembered the first few minutes of his life joined with Dexter. He'd rifled through thousands of memories to find a seventeen year old ignored by his family, scorned by his classmates and bullied almost constantly for no fault of Dexter's.
Dexter hadn't been living. He'd only been existing. Like Freakazoid.
And then in the bathroom that Christmas morning, when he'd been playing around with him, teasing and loving every minute of the goofiness, when Dexter's older brother had rapped on the door and commanded to be let in. Ordered his Dexter around.
For the first time, Freakazoid had picked up the emotion 'real fear' threading through the tiny link connecting them when Duncan appeared. And it pissed him off. What right did this overgrown oaf having threatening his-his pseudo-brother! He didn't, that's what. Dexter was his. He claimed him. He was the one living in his mind, not damned Duncan. That's why Freakazoid had taken over, completely, because Dexter had been nearly scared into submission and Freak wasn't having any of it.
In Freakazoid's warped mind, if Dexter was going to be controlled, it was going to be on his terms.
"Mmm… Freakazoid, are you getting sick? You're shaking," Dexter asked, suddenly becoming wide awake and pulling Freak from his reverie. Dexter placed a hand on Freak's forehead, partly over his mask.
"Sorry Dex. Just thinking. About things and stuff," he clarified, shaking his head and pushing Dexter's hand away from his face.
Dexter looked at him oddly, an eyebrow raised. "What's up?"
"Nothing that a good session surfing the web won't fix." He looked into Dexter's worried eyes. "I'll work it all out tomorrow. Don't worry." 'Or maybe like another good wrestling session with Duncan, perhaps.' Freakazoid kept that thought tucked safely to himself.
Sitting straight up, the pressure in Dexter's sinus' shifted. "AhhhhCHOOOO!" he sneezed suddenly.
"Geez, Dex, I'm going to see a lung come up next. Lie back down." Freakazoid implored.
Dexter made a facial expression which was obviously supposed to look defiant but came out more like a pout. An adorable pout. "Not until you tell me what's wrong."
"Nah, it's nothing, Dexxy. Just a nagging thought."
Dexter sighed. "Ahhcuu!" He sniffed. "Freak, I know I look like crap right now-but it's me. And it's you. And we have to share stuff with each other. Or it'll build up and you'll…overheat, or something. Or whatever Roddy said you would do with too much pent up energy."
Freakazoid appeared to contemplate his other half's statement, before speaking slowly. "Naww, it's okay, Dex. It's nothing. Really."
At this, Dexter raised his eyebrows. "Okay? You're not okay. I can feel it. It's not nothing." He probed through their bond, but Freak's shields were still up. Sniff. "Is it what I asked you earlier?"
Unsure of what to say, Freakazoid did not answer.
Anxiety filled Dexter again. This was worse than he had thought. Had his alter-ego lied? Or, was it something else...?
F!
The world was spinning a little faster when Dexter awakened.
Was Freakazoid going to go for good?
The thought came so unbidden and so quickly Dexter had no time to block it from his other half, who caught wind of it almost instantaneously. While Freak stared at Dexter in shock at the raw emotion flooding from the small geek, (worry, curiosity, and plain old fear) Dexter panicked just a little bit as he assumed the worst of Freakazoid's thoughts. Freak didn't respond, which obviously meant Dexter had been right, and Freak was just trying to be a nice guy and for whatever reason, hadn't broken that he was leaving to his other half yet.
Of course.
He was being nice, talkative, doing all of this for him to try and break the fall.
Dexter panicked and started withdrawing from the Freakazone in a rush, gathering up his loose thoughts like so much dirty laundry, and the last thing he saw in his mind's eye was his alter-ego super hero jumping to his feet, blue lips in an o of surprise, and stretching out his arms in a futile attempt to bring him back.
The world was colder and harder than his mind. Dexter sat straight up in his bed, panting harshly as if he'd just run a mile. He shuddered, from his cold or from simply mental emotion, he wasn't sure any more. But he was shaking. God, his whole body ached. He needed…medicine. Freakazoid was right.
I'm getting sicker, Dexter thought numbly as he clambered out of bed, nearly knocking over a glass of water on his bedside table as he fumbled for his glasses. He shoved them onto his face but wearing them did nothing to clear his foggy vision.
Dexter sneezed, the sound pathetic in his own ears as he exited his room, using the promise of blessed Nyquil sitting in the bathroom cabinet down the hall as a reward for exerting this much energy simply to walk and remain upright. He failed to hear the front door slam with an angry grunt.
"Hey, Twink-where do you think you're going?"
Oh dear god no, not now please. Dexter buried his face in his hands in (futile) hopes that Duncan would just ignore him, find something better to do.
"I got an F on a test today-and I think you need double your daily beating to make me feel better."
No such luck. Duncan was just being sadistic now. That's the only word Dexter could think of as he watched with horror as his older, much stronger brother lumbered up the stairs and blocked Dexter's path to the bathroom.
With one massive paw of a hand, he grabbed Dexter's shoulder, either not noticing or simply choosing to ignore the way Dexter limply slumped against him and sniffed pathetically through his clogged sinuses. "D-Duncan, not n-now please," Dexter tried to reason, having no energy left to do anything else. "I c-can't..."
"Whatsamatter, Dexter?" his brother hissed, a mocking semblance of worry in his tone. It turned to a cold growl as he tilted his head, staring at him with predatory eyes and shoving him against the wall hard. "Don't you wanna be a good brother to me?" He raised his fist above Dexter's face.
Dexter flinched, and the mirror on the wall next to them shattered.
"What the HELL?" Duncan shouted staring at the mirror which lay in shards on the ground. "You stupid geek, look what you did-!"
Now Dexter was scared for a very different reason. He clamped his eyes shut and desperately tried to reach the link that bonded him to his crazed alter ego. It was pretty much blocked; only a few beams of thought shining through the shields, but that didn't stop Dexter from trying to reach Freakazoid before it was too late. He could feel that Freakazoid wasn't angry. He was way beyond angry. And he was getting stronger by the minute. Freak, don't do it! Dexter thought frantically, shaking his head. Remember your powers-!
The shards of glass slowly rose in midair and aimed at Duncan, who screamed like a little girl at the sight and released Dexter. A rattling from down the hall startled Dexter as well—a table was wobbling, and the vase on it was rising up.
This was beyond bad, but Dexter's analytical mind jammed the puzzle pieces into place with its typical swiftness and everything clicked. The angrier you get the stronger your telekinesis!
The link opened abruptly. Dexter was almost physically pushed back from the force of the anger filling his subconscious, a bright haze nearly blinding him. He has no right, Freakazoid hissed to Dexter, just before slamming the link closed. Dexter's vision waned and he saw stars as he watched Duncan get brutally tormented by what he screamed was a ghost.
Dexter blacked out just after that, spiraling back to where e had almost needed up earlier this morning. The only problem one was Freak was too focused on 'Duncan' and 'revenge' and 'anger' to notice his ailing human half as Dexter tumbled into oblivion. Something gave a deep guttural growl, something that did not give him warm happy feelings like Freakazoid did.
This time, no one was there to catch him from pitch blackness.
F!
With a gasp of pure astonishment, Freakazoid stumbled into the real world, nearly toppling over in his haste to gather his wits. The vase crashed to the ground, along with the shards of glass still aiming at Duncan. The table stopped wobbling and an odd sense of calm hushed over Freakazoid and Duncan.
Duncan took one look at Freak, who leered at him. "Let'swrestle." He ground out through clenched teeth. Duncan screamed like a high pitched little girl and fled the scene and the house in a mad rush.
Freak did start after Duncan, nothing more in his mind than to beat the living hell out of him, but he took one step and his legs gave out beneath him like wet paper, sending him crumpling to his knees.
"What…?" That was his voice all right, a soft whisper with no more strength than a breath. He stared into a larger triangle shard of the broken mirror to see Dexter's face staring back at him, looking how Freakazoid felt, completely mind blown. His gaze was wide and his eyes were small, pupils nearly pinpricks, giving Dexter a look of a loony-the only way you could for certain attain that Dexter wasn't quite himself anymore from just a glance.
I'm in…control? But how? Where's my body? Dexter hadn't said "Freak out." Was that why Freak was currently stuck inside Dex's human form? Maybe. But there were bigger things worrying Freak than placement at the moment.
I may be me on the inside…but I'm still Dexter on the outside and Dexter's still really sick.
Actually, he was getting worse. Freakazoid hadn't felt this pathetic since Gutierrez put a stopper on his powers in the internet, and he knew Dexter would only continue to get weaker at this rate. At least Freak himself wasn't even close to being sick himself. His mind was a little foggy (almost like when he tried playing around in a computer that was running Windows ME—a total nightmare) and his body was sore and tired. His muscles trembled as Freakazoid felt chills rush up and down his spine as Dexter's body tried to regulate its temperature.
Logging onto the oil-slick colored highways of the Internet directly from his brain, he tried to figure out Dexter's symptoms. He asked the nice servers at Wikipedia, Web MD—but all his efforts yielded him was that Dexter was beyond ill, and his brain was nearly fried.
105.4…Dexter, I'm sorry. Freakazoid grunted from the exertion of lifting and getting Dexter's body to move itself, he made it clumsily stumble toward the bathroom, the safe haven Dexter had been unable to reach because of his brother.
"When I-ahh-get my-hands on, uhhn, Duncan…rrgh." Freakazoid nearly fell into the tub as he entered the bathroom and headed for the cabinet over the sink. "'M gonna wrap him into little bitty knots and ties so bad it'll take five chiropractors and a surgeon to set him straight!" Freakazoid growled out Dexter's mouth as he downed two aspirin.
The most life-threatening areas so far being taken care of, Freakazoid began to take deep breaths to relax his other self's body. In between breaths he spoke aloud, hoping to coax Dexter's mind awake—being careful to shut the door to the bathroom behind himself.
"C'mon Dex, it's okay," he murmured, sitting down on the lip of the tub to relax his shaky legs. "You're okay now. It's okay. You can come out now." There was no response from his other half, mental or otherwise. It was complete radio silence, and it scared the hell out of Freakazoid.
"Seriously, Dexxy. Wake up. Wake up!" Freakazoid glared in frustration in the mirror, watching Dexter glare back at him from the reflection. This wasn't Dexter, this was just a mask. Something akin to anxiousness rose deep in his chest. Dexter wasn't waking up. Freakazoid would have to go in and get him if this kept up, cold or no.
At any rate, exhaustion would take over and no amount of Freak's reassuring or medicine would stop Dexter's body from shutting down. He could feel it. Being not-super really sucks, Dexxy, how do you deal with it all the time? Freakazoid shook himself. The best choice he had was getting this body somewhere it could rest, and then delving into their shared mind to retrieve Dexter.
Hopping into bed and throwing the covers over Dexter's body was a task that took few precious seconds. Closing his eyes and relaxing his muscles methodically from his toes to the tips of his fingers, Freakazoid withdrew from his other half's body as quickly as he could, moving so fast there was a rush in his ears and when he landed in the Freakazone it was so hard he stumbled a bit.
"Dexter?" Freakazoid looked around but could neither see nor feel his presence. "Dexter-you here?" No response. Not even a shadow of a thought that could have been from the smaller geek. Dexter was completely unresponsive.
Freakazoid moved at literally lightning-quick speed out of his private part of their brain and stormed into Dexter's half, a room warmed by Dexter's quiet, unassuming personality. It wasn't nearly as decorated as Freak's own because Dexter didn't know much about his own brain, so it was normally very easy to find his other half—but not today. The entire lack of Dexter was really starting to freak him the hell out. He didn't even chuckle at his own mental pun.
"Dexter! Come out come out, wherever you are!" He drew out the last word, but heard his own voice shake. "I don't wanna play hide-and-seek-the-geek with you!"
Freakazoid finally found Dexter curled up in a puddle of light on the most outer edge of their joined subconscious. Few conscious thoughts were made to survive here, it was a dark place. Not evil, just dark with thoughts lurking that were better left un-thought-of, belonging to both Dexter and his insane super hero. It was here Freak had been hoping to keep Dexter from. It was his own mind, but Freak thought it better if Dex didn't even know it existed.
He gasped and rushed over, dropping to his knees beside the lanky boy who was skinny anyway but looked even more pathetic now. "Dex! Dexter, nooo, no no, we need to get outta here, come on back to where it's nice and warm and you have a bed and a couch and a minifridge and re-runs of Rat Patrol, come on Dexter-!" His skin was way too pale except for his flushed face, his breathing shallow. Instinctively Freak laid a hand on Dex's forehead, drawing back almost instantly when he felt that he was feverish—a hundred and four point six degrees exactly, his computerized brain told him-
Dexter was about as close to a coma as he could get in this place, and Freakazoid hated that. He hated the sight of his other half lying on his side in a small ball and lying so still. And most of all, he hated that there wasn't a single thing he could do.
Feeling helpless? It sucked.
"Dexter? DEXTER!"
Staying here wasn't doing anything positive for Freakazoid's nerves, which couldn't take it anymore. He hated feeling like this-at every little noise and sound Freakazoid lashed out angrily with a surge of electricity and a snarl, trying to ward off anything 'Bad' that tried to get to close to Dexter. Something shadowy which might have been nothing-but he thought it was something-tried to get closer to them. It was abruptly shredded with a sickening crackle by Freakazoid's lightning-encased fist.
"Back off! You can't have him! He's mine!" Dragging Dexter into his arms (God, he was so light, Freakazoid wasn't human but even he knew this just wasn't healthy) and shot off toward his part of Dexter's brain. In record time, Freak rocketed to the safest place he knew, a red blur cradling a smaller blue one.
Finally, Freak heard the blessed sound of Rat Patrol tweeting happily through the television (a stark, cold contrast to his current mood) and screeched to a halt, just barely keeping himself upright and Dexter tucked tightly in his grasp. Dexter, who still hadn't moved or thought anything, Dexter who lay lifeless in Freak's arms.
The Freakazone was darkening alarmingly. Considering it was tied almost directly to Freak himself, it wasn't much of a surprise to the super hero when the TV blinked off and the incandescent yellow glow of lamplight faded. At this rate, with Freakazoid's mood spiraling downward, they would be encased in darkness within minutes.
Freakazoid laid Dexter onto the couch, trying to be as gentle as possible as his brain tired to figure out a million things at once.
"Stupid stupid stupid!" Freakazoid dug his knuckles into his forehead as he loomed over the small motionless geek, pacing back and forth in front of the sofa. "I never should have let Dex leave! I should have just taken over and got him medicine and sent him straight to bed and not. Let. Him. Leave!" He growled out.
Below him, Dexter said nothing, thought nothing, didn't move. His breathing was nothing more than a weak rattle in his ribcage.
Grinding his teeth and grimacing over his anger and helplessness, Freakazoid pathetically dropped to his knees at Dexter's side, out of ideas and out of options.
"I'm such an idiot, Dexter…I thought you could handle it but you couldn't and I let you suffer." He bit his lip hard. "I screwed the hell up." He raked a gloved hand through his wild spiked hair, thinking hard and glaring angrily at nothing in particular. If he'd been paying attention to anything but Dexter, he would have noticed the TV and lamp fade completely out of existence. The only sound in the dark, gray room was Dexter's very soft, very thin breaths, and soon that was going to come to a standstill.
Oh, God, Freakazoid thought, tumbling to a grim conclusion as Dexter's breaths went erratic, gasping, irregular. Oh, God, he's going into Cheyne-Stokes.
The pulsing noise Freakazoid knew to be Dexter's heart was becoming fainter and fainter.
Passages from Web sites read long ago blared through Freakazoid's brain.
Heart failure. Coma. Death.
One crazed, insane option remained. But deranged as it was, it was a million, trillion times better than just sitting around and watching Dexter die.
"But I can make things right." The insane super hero glared determinedly at Dexter's chest, which was now rising less and less as time was ticked by.
"I'll be back, Dexter."
Freak stood up resolutely and backed away slowly from his other half's body. He let himself have one last glance at the boy, a sad determination on his features, before walking (with as much confidence as he could muster) away from the Freakazone. He knew exactly what he was about to do, and it was not something that could be taken lightly, given the situation. The risks were monumental. Nothing like this had ever been attempted before and for the first time in his life, Freakazoid really felt crazy, like mental-patient, entire-psych-ward crazy-in a bad way.
"…Probably."
F!
He found it, not far from where he found Dexter, on the very outskirts of their shared brain. It was sitting there, calmly-lumpy and massive. Greed and hunger poured of it in waves as it lay feeding off the shadows of what was left of Dexter's mind. Freak tried not to cringe. It gurgled at Freakazoid's approach, way too strong to be what it once was, an ordinary computer virus Freak himself could have crushed with his thumb when it first was circulated.
But living off Dexter's mind and energy had made it stronger than something Freak felt he could face alone.
I have to try. This is my fault. It's a computer virus, I must have given it to Dex somehow, maybe I wasn't as careful with my surfing as I thought I was...
"You." He glared at it, feeling oddly powerful despite his dying other half fading away in his mind. "Stop what you're doing to Dexter!" He pointed a threatening finger at the black, oozing mess. "You big weenie!"
The mass laughed with a roar like a lion, its horrible slash of a mouth half-open, baring a wicked set of ivory teeth. Its beady, shiny eyes were just slits as it stared down at him. And then suddenly a long, twisting arm-a barbed tentacle, Freak realized just before he leaped out of the way-came hurtling from its body, slashing powerfully at him.
"You're the one that's been making Dexter so sick! You're just some lame computer bug-but you took advantage of my human and now you're killing him!"
The tentacle recoiled, but another followed right after, then another. Despite no legs with which to run, it did have, Freak realized, several lengthy 'arms' lashing around and protruding from various spots on its body, and they were constantly moving. Freak knew that if he left his guard down, even for a moment, he'd be nearly crushed by that god-awful thing in an instant.
But as one swung by, Freak reached out an arm and grabbed hold of it, pulling angrily with his super strength. "I said GO AWAY!" The monster punched at him roughly and Freakazoid tried to return one of his own.
"I'm not letting you get him!" Nearly swallowed by the sickness—the black mass oozing around his ankles, he realized sharply-the super-teen struggled in a vain attempt to gain the upper hand.
I'm losing. The thought was grave and quiet. I'm sorry, Dexxy. I'm so sorry.
The monster growled and dug deeper, trying to swallow both Dexter and his alter-ego whole in one go.
I've got one more shot, come on Freak, you can do this, he blindly encouraged himself. And, mustering as much strength as he had in his body, calling on the entire force of the Internet to back him up—he hauled back a fist and punched hard, and the mass of sickness and virus was fling clear off the ground and slammed into a huge wall of blue, crackling energy-
Wait. What? Where had that come from?
Freak watched the thing stick the wall and slide down it like a slug, leaving a trail of grime and grossness in its wake. Freak hadn't made that bright blue wall that had stopped the creature; he didn't even know how to start doing something like that, so where…?
Oh. Now he got it. Freakazoid smiled bizarrely, a hard laugh erupting from his chest as he glared at his enemy.
"How did that feel, huh! Bet it hurt! Bet it did!" Freakazoid cat-called, his tone teasing and singsong as the thing tried to gather its wits. "Wanna know why!" Freakazoid watched with obvious glee, rubbing his hands together as another wall blocked the creature's sloppy, desperate counter attack with its swinging arms.
The horrible monster obviously had other things on its mind than figuring out why or how he was being thwarted, but Freak kept up the commentary anyway—it helped his morale, and sure enough the place was actually getting brighter-as he bounced around the creature, causing it to whirl around to try and keep an eye on him, thoroughly confusing it.
"I'll tell ya why! Cause I'm not the only one fighting you! Isn't that right?" Freak punched with all his might and was rewarded with a beam of sky-blue light whacking the monster right behind him.
"Dexter's fighting back too! That's the trouble with going after the weakest opponent first!" Reeling back for one final stab, Freakazoid spotted a small hairline crack on the creature that blue light was trickling from. The bug screeched blood-curdlingly.
"You leave the stronger ones out there to go after YOU!" Hitting deep and strong, Freakazoid's punch turned the hairline cracks into spider-webbing chips that started falling away. The monster flailed and shrieked in agony as it tried to flee-but then, with a loud bang, simply exploded and scattered everywhere. Blue walls crashed around it and pinned it firmly in place while Freakazoid was protected from the blast by even more walls.
And then the puddles of slime that were left simply flickered and faded out of existence with as much fanfare as a dying monitor display. It was just... gone.
The bright walls of white and blue light fell away; Dexter's mind began to lighten considerably as his thoughts started up again. A soft throbbing-Dexter's heart, started up like a metronome far away as Dexter's body regulated everything. No more was the crippling virus streaming through the smaller teen's system; Dexter's mind eagerly welcomed Freakazoid but isolated the remains of the computer bug. Proudly, the blue super hero gazed as the periwinkle-blue walls merged, watching with awed interest at their glowing form that surrounded him in an amiable, almost comforting way.
"Thanks for the help! Bye-bye!" Freak waved with avid eyes and waving arms as the blue aura waved its own farewell and left him, returning to the deepest areas of Dexter's subconscious, where Freak knew nothing was welcome, not even someone as close to Dexter as he was.
Weakly, Freak suddenly felt a feeble tug at their bond not more than a few moments later.
"Dexter!" He cried out loud excitedly, joy and sheer incredulous relief flooding his mind.
Freakazoid…?
God, Dexter still sounded and felt too frail for Freak's liking, but he was back online and that was good enough for him. It took three minutes to trek through their shared subconscious and get back to Dexter's side, and four to scoop his still-frail but thankfully breathing form clear off the couch to bear-hug him.
F!
Dexter chuckled weakly at the way Freakazoid nearly crushed him, trying to gather some air in his lungs long enough to speak to his alter-ego. After a few seconds he simply gave up and curled his too-weak arms around the protective Freak as tightly as he could muster.
Neither said anything directly to one another, through their bonded link or vocally, but they didn't have to. Freak was radiating relief and happiness, almost blinding in its intensity-while Dexter was just giving off a subtle wave of thankfulness and his natural air of frailty. It was hardly something Freak should be happy to feel coming from his other half, but to Freak, it was more convincing than having God himself appear before him.
Freakazoid's arms wrapped tighter than before, practically clenching as he held Dexter firmly flush against his body. He buried his face into his human's brown hair, inhaling deeply and furrowing his eyebrows.
I almost lost you. The thought came unbidden from Freak's side of the link, coupled with anxiety and an odd sense of despondency that Dexter was surprised to feel from his normally confident, carefree alter-ego, and it hit him hard.
He sent back a gesture of emotion in a message of his own, filled with confusion and gentle reassurances, mostly asking softly in their own way: why?
He only remembered blacking out, nothing after was available to his memory. He just remembered Duncan, and Freakazoid's telekinesis, and then getting woozy and fainting into darkness.
Don't wanna lose you.
Wait. Freakazoid would be... sad to lose him? You don't want to leave me? He sent through the link.
Nothing but assurance and happy thoughts filtered to Dexter's side of their shared mind, and Freak clung tighter as well. In times like this, when his hyper-active super-hero didn't use words…were the moments where he spoke the most with his silence. Dexter smiled softly.
"You big dummyhead, Dexter-don't you get it!" Freak pulled back to look into Dexter's eyes, his blue gaze searching. "You're-"
But what he was exactly Freakazoid never got a chance to explain, because at that very moment they both heard an echoing voice far above them.
"Dexter sweetie? Are you feeling any better? Oh good gracious, you look like death warmed over…"
"That's mom," Dexter spoke, staring upward.
With great, obvious reluctance, Freakazoid set his human-half down, but still was able to lean forward and press their foreheads together in a shockingly intimate gesture which—as somewhat of a shock to Dexter himself—was completely welcomed by Dexter.
"You should go," Freakazoid spoke, still close enough that Dexter could feel his breath on his cheek, an uncharacteristically soft tone lacing his words. Dexter shook his head, swallowing, trying to stay longer than he was welcome, trying to figure Freakazoid out all in one go.
"I-I-" It was no use. Freak smiled back at him, somewhat sadly, and gave Dexter a gentle but commanding shove backward—well, not exactly backward. For the second time that day, Dexter was forcibly and quickly leaving his alter ego's mind, careening up and out and awaking in the real world with a huge gasp of air that startled his mother and-
"MREEEOW!" -and apparently the cat, who vacated his spot on Dexter's stomach so quickly that he skidded across the laminate floor on his way out.
"Dexter, honey! You're looking much better!"
Of course I am, mom, now that I'm awake, did you notice I was asleep?
His mother smiled at him as she peered into the doorway of his bedroom, her smile wide and unassuming, a blotch of lipstick on her teeth and her eye shadow garish, poorly-placed. Dexter relaxed at the sight of her, but couldn't force his throat to unclench to say anything.
"I'm going to make sloppy Joes for dinner, come down if you're hungry, dear!" And with that cheerful statement she left as abruptly as she'd come. Dexter shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.
Careful! Some of us have utilities that should never be shaken in here! A voice chided from inside his skull.
Oh, s-sorry, Dexter thought sheepishly.
A feeling of a mental shrug. It's alright, microwave still works. No harm done.
Yawning so hard tears prickled at the corners of his eyes, Dexter listened to the random erratic images and ideas coming across the link Freakazoid shared with him. Now that Dexter was better (or getting better), Freakazoid clearly saw fit to act his normal self. Which for Dexter meant very un-normal and zany. But it was Freak, and it was familiar nonetheless, and it was...comforting. Insanity was comforting? He would have shaken himself again if Freak hadn't told him not to, but for now Dexter was content to go about making his way to the bathroom as slowly as possible.
He was still very tired. Everything ached. Staring into the mirror, Dexter peered over his glasses and studied his own face. Well, their face. He was still sharing a body with someone, whether he was comfortable with the feeling or not, that alone wouldn't make anything better or make Freakazoid leave.
But then….did he want him to leave?
No. Dexter sighed, making sure to keep those thoughts locked up tight and for only himself to think them. No. he most certainly did not want Freak gone, super hero or no. for better or for worse, this was now his life and he was going to have stick with it the best he could and muddle through somehow.
And what would he do with his life, exactly, if Freakazoid left him? Still new to this whole 'sharing thoughts' thing, he accidentally felt that idea slip past his barriers. Freakazoid caught wind of it immediately, and stopped all other thoughts to send one large idea over to him.
"I dunno how I can prove to you that I'm gonna stay, Dexxy-so I'm just gonna have to do it one day at a time, right? And prove every day I'm not leaving!
Dexter shook his head at his reflection, studying his smaller than normal pupils in the mirror. And how are you going to do that, exactly? The small geek thought absentmindedly as he perched his glasses back on his nose.
By never leaving your side again!
…that makes no sense, Freakazoid.
But then again, Dexter reasoned to himself fondly as he felt a familiar feeling of warmth fill him from the inside out, not much concerning Freakazoid did make sense. That was the point.
And yeah, it was definitely comforting, anyway.
Dexter! Dexter! Guess what I just thought of? Let's get married and get a puppy-oh, oh! Or a pet wombat! Or a pangolin, they're really freaky!"
Fin