Grey puffs of smoke mingled flirtatiously with the evening fog. A bird somewhere in the distance called to its mate and the sound carried over the sleeping city, for everyone, save for one man, was in bed with loved ones surrounding them. The lone man wandered the streets, hurrying to get home after a particularly tiresome meeting. His shoes slapped the pavement, but the water on the cement muffled the sounds he made. Ahead, a large crash sounded, and the man held a hand close to his belt, his footsteps sounding even faster and quieter now. He slowed in relief as he found the source of the crash a few streets ahead of him. There had been an increase in crime the past three months and so the man had not been sure the noise was friendly. However, he found no threat in the drunken man that stumbled around the streets.

Suddenly the drunk jerked his attention toward one of the many alleys, stepping forward curiously. When the first man heard very human-sounding whimpering coming from the alley's opening, his hand immediately went for his waist again and he strode toward the drunken man to investigate.

The drunk looked at the man walking toward him, and seeing the lowered limb, quickly held up his own hands. " 'Ey officer," he slurred, obviously mistaking the sober man for a cop, "I...I didn't...do anyt'ing to 'im, 'e's jus'...." He trailed off in confusion as the other man shoved him aside to look in the alleyway. What he found made his heart stop.

A small figure, a girl who looked to be about thirteen, was crouched low to the ground. Her body was scrawny and thin, as if she had not eaten for a while and her scraggy rags, barely resembling clothes, hung to her frame like dirty, forgotten sheets. Grey eyes squinted curiously at the new face that peered through the darkness at her and the orbs were framed by smudged lenses and bent frames.

The man tried to reach for the girl but she only whimpered and pulled away from the outstretched fingers. She winced as her arm hit the pavement behind her and the man had a suspicion that she broke the limb a while back. He decided not to try touching her again.

The girl, aware of the man's new plan, continue to gaze at him with eerily bright and questioning eyes, almost as if wondering why the adult even bothered to care about her. She occasionally looked up at the drunk with worried glances and the first man did not take long to understand.

"Go home," he told the man towering over him. The intoxicated man took offense for the first time that night.

"I dohn't see why I...need to, offic...er..." the slurs were laced with a smug air. "I 'ave jus' asss muchhhh rahgt to," he hiccuped loudly and pointed at the pavement, "be 'ere as you do...."

"Go home," he repeated forcefully, lightly fingering his belt once more. The other turned and ran, tripping and fumbling for his balance again. Soon enough he was out of sight and the first man turned back to the girl.

"I'm Mandark," he informed cordially, hoping to coax her out with kindness. The girl began breathing hard, retreating even further back into the darkness.

"D...Dex...ter," and Mandark heard no more out of the girl as the child was lost to a dark not unlike the one surrounding her.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Waking up, he looked around in wild confusion. Where was he? Why was he here...? He immediately feigned slumber as heavy footsteps-the boy guessed they were made by an adult-sounded, stopping at his side.

"Still not awake?" A voice asked softly. The boy on the couch almost gaped in wonder at the kind tone. He did not trust the voice however-he had no reason to.

He chose to stay silent.

The footsteps soon retreated and Dexter slowly opened his eyes and cautiously looked around again. What if the man had not really gone? His cloudy orbs met no human figures in the room, but he still hesitated to sit up. As he did, he noted his change in clothing. Instead of the baggy, ragged t-shirt and shorts he had been in before, he was now clad in a loose-fitting white plaid shirt and jeans. His hands flew over his body, checking every miniscule detail. What if that man had touched him? What if he still wanted to...?

"Oh, so you are awake!"

Dexter looked up, clutching his chest in alarm as the man smiled down at him. The grey eyes slowly became slits as he refused to give an inch to the person before him. Whatever-his-name-was frowned a little and when the smile returned, it was more sympathetic than anything and Dexter hated it.

"What happened to you?"

Dexter's eyebrows lowered even more. "Nothing happened to me that I need to tell you about." He could tell the man was not only surprised by his hostile tone and the Russian that thickened the angrier he got, but also by the fact that he was a boy who looked increasingly like a girl as he grew older.

The guy who had obviously kidnapped him gaped. "You're a boy?"

Dexter bristled, but did not say anything. He did not like talking to strangers any more than he had to, and this man had obviously figured out he was a boy by now. The man's shocked expression wore away and the grin made another appearance.

"It's no matter at the present moment. I already informed the police that you were here and they asked me to watch you until they found a suitable place for you." Dexter's anger did not fade. The police wanted him to stay with this man until they found time to "look for" his so-called suitable place.

The man went on, not noticing Dexter's feelings. "I gladly accepted the offer."

Of course he did.

"Dexter, was it?" The boy gave a curt nod.

"Do you remember my name?" The boy thought for a couple of seconds before shaking his head. "I'm Mandark." Once again, the older male was taken by surprise at the other's reaction, but not by much.

Dexter laughed cruelly. "What kind of name is Mandark?" He questioned without thinking. Mandark's eyes closed as he practically sighed his response.

"I didn't like the name my parents gave me, so I made myself new name. It stuck with me into adulthood."

"That's so stupid!" But if Dexter was hoping to make the man angry, he was sorely disappointed as the man joined in. What was wrong with this man?

Despite himself, Dexter yawned and Mandark glanced at his watch. "It's already 2 am." He noted with some shock. Dexter had to think that this man was constantly surprised by the world around him. The man's, Mandark or whatever, next statement broke him from his thoughts.

"Nine is your bedtime while you're living here."

Not wanting to waste energy with words, Dexter simply fixed the man with a disbelieving stare.

Mandark laughed. "Yep, you better believe it. Goodnight, Dexter." He turned to leave, but he apparently thought of something as he faced the boy again. "Don't forget to turm out the lamp when you get settled." Dexter must have given him a questioning look because a new grin spread over the man's face as he pointed somewhere behind Dexter's head. The grey-eyed boy turned to see an old-fashioned lamp he had not noticed before sitting on a small, couch-side table.

Mandark said goodnight again and then finally left and Dexter uneasily settled into the shockingly comfortable couch cushions. After a few minutes of internal debate, he reached behind his head and turned off the ancient-looking lamp. He peered through the darkness in terror; watching as the shadows seemed to drift closer, wisps of ebony taunting him by remaining at his side while never quite grasping him to take him back to that place.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

A/N: So for any of you guys who are worrying about pedophilia, don't. Dexter's older than he looks and besides, I'm not sure how this story will develop....By the way, my friend read this story and thought that it was funny and that the drunk man should make another appearance. What do you guys think of the story?

(It's rated M because of Dexter's past, not because of Mandark and Dexter's relationship...maybe)

I PROMISE NOT TO GET MAD AT ANY CRITISM, JUST TELL ME HOW IT WENT!

Au revoir!

~theflawintheplan