Author's Note: I may (probably not) end up continuing this story, but if I do it's not going to be anytime soon. However, if you're interested then by all means; run with it, just use you're own words. If you choose to, send me a link. I'd love to read it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Dexter.
Three Days Grace "I am machine"
Here's to being human
All the pain and suffering
There's beauty in the bleeding
At least you feel something
I wish I knew what it was like
To care enough to carry on
I wish I knew what it was like
To find a place where I belong, but
I am machine
I never sleep
I keep my eyes wide open
I am machine
A part of me
Wishes I could just feel something
I am machine
I never sleep
Until I fix what's broken
I am machine
A part of me
Wishes I could just feel something
Here's to being human
Taking it for granted
The highs and lows of living
To getting second chances
I wish I knew what it was like
To care about what's right or wrong
I wish someone could help me find
Find a place where I belong, but
I am machine
I never sleep
I keep my eyes wide open
I am machine
A part of me
Wishes I could just feel something
I am machine
I never sleep
Until I fix what's broken
I am machine
A part of me
Wishes I could just feel something
It wasn't supposed to be this way
We were meant to feel the pain
I don't like what I am becoming
Wish I could just feel something
I am machine
I never sleep
I keep my eyes wide open
I am machine
A part of me
Wishes I could just feel something
I am machine
I never sleep
Until I fix what's broken
I am machine
A part of me
Wishes I could just feel something.
"Jesus fucking christ Dexter, wake up!" Debra shouted.
Hesitating in the doorway Doakes barked, "What the fuck happened in here?!"
They'd been called to come up to room 103 long before Dexter should have finished his assessment. The police sentrys hadn't explained in detail, too panicked, something had gone very wrong. Seeing the scarlet room again was no less disturbing as the first time. They didn't notice Dexter's still form lying on the floor at first, but judging from the disturbed blood on the floor, he'd had a severe panic attack. Falling on the ground and sliding more than once. The armoire off to the side had knocked over ever so slightly. You could only tell by the small rectangle of stainless carpet. He must have slammed his head on the corner. Deb hurried forward upon seeing the prone body beside it.
/\\\/\\\/
Dexter woke to hands snatching at his body; tugging and pulling his shoulder, touching his neck. Any moment now they would be ripping, tearing, screaming. And blood, so much blood. This room was different in some indescribable way. Lighter. But the blood, everywhere; on his clothes, in the air, he was drowning in it. Nothing else mattered enough for him to think any differently. Hands were still grabbing him; loud voices shouting. He was next, they where going to cut him into pieces.
"No! Stop! Please stop. Don't hurt me, please, please, please, please."
Doakes and Debra let him go immediately, as if they had been touching a live wire. Dexter half crawled, half ran across the blood soaked floor, slipping once before scrambling to his feet again. Hitting the wall, he veered alongside it till he reached a corner. Tucking in his knees to his chest and burying his face in his arms, breathing short ragged breaths. His goggles and cobalt mask had slipped off in the confusion, along with the white hood of the hasmat suit. Dexter's hair spiked up in places with blood. His continuous, desperate pleading chipped away what little was of their frayed nerves. Gods, what happened?
"Morgan" Doakes began, far more calmly and soothing than he could ever remember being before. "We're your…friends. We're not going to hurt you. Can you tell us what's wrong?"
"Leave me alone! I don't know you! That's not even my name! Where's Biney? I want my brother! Where is he?!"
Deb froze in stunned confusion at his words while Doakes exchanged baffled glances with the beat cops in the hallway. Brother? The looks asked, not sister?
Shaking it off Doakes hushed; flashing back to his time in service, when one of his men had been to shell-shocked to move, "Dexter, you need to calm down. Deep breaths. Come on, breath with me. In...out...in...out...there you go. Do you know where you are? What the hel- what happened in here?"
An, of course I do, look was directed at him over Dexter's crossed arms. Which would have been amusing if it hadn't been a fragile, cracking mask for the fear underlying it. Neither was prepared to see Dexter like this; panicked, scared. He so rarely showed emotions usually.
"The bad men came and they hurt mommy. They cut her up and left. We couldn't wake her up. I tried really hard! But, she wouldn't wake up."
They felt pinpricks of frigid claws slowly pawing up their spines, offset by a burning ball of anxiety in their chests. No wonder he was so fucked up.
"Dexter, listen to me. You're not there anymore-"
"Yes I am! This room is the same!" All the while trying to wipe some blood off his cheekbone, only making the smear bigger. "Where's Biney?"
"You work with the police, you had an accident at a crime scene."
Dexter's eyes didn't stop roaming the room, absolutely uncomprehending Doake's words. "I want my brother."
"We don't know where he is right now. But, we'll find him for you. Do you want to get out of here?"
Eyes shining with unshed tears, Dexter nodded frantically; reaching out a hand.
Hauling him up, Doakes guarded his left side after wrapping a coarse grey blanket, one of the paramedics had brought in, around his trembling shoulders.
As they passed, Deb flew into frenzied action, jumping to Dexter's right. He flinched away initially but soon relaxed at her (surprisingly profanity-free) whispered chatter.
"Don't worry. You're safe here, with us. We'll keep you safe."
For all that Doakes despised Dexter, freak was unnerving at the best of times, this person in front of him was lost and frightened; startling at the quietest noises. Traumatized. If Doakes was anyone, he was someone who protected people. Protected them from killers. Seeing someone, anyone in this state made every last one of his protective instincts rear up in defiance. He would kill whoever was responsible for this, very slowly.