Good Morning Miami
By Erik's Princess.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. :( I wish I did but I don't so please don't sue me.
P.s This is a revison to the chatper, I'm revising them all, making them flow better and what not, please tell me what you think of the finished article :)
And i hope you like Good Morning Miami 2.0
Good Morning Miami. Breaking new; Brian Moser, also known as the Ice Truck Killer has been arrested and is currently being taken in for questioning. He was captured only ten minutes ago, trying to escape the country via boat. He is currently en route to Miami Metro Police Station, where he is expected to arrive within the half hour. Brian Moser is believed to have...
Brian.
The office is in ecstasy. Anyone who could get access to the department did. I would say it was a party atmosphere, but I think that is probably an inappropriate label for such a situation.
Me?
If I could feel and I mean really feel, I would be scared. But I can't, so I just sit in my lab, and wait. He let himself get caught. I know he did. He said we wouldn't be separated again, I remember at our last meeting; he didn't like my refusal to play. Of course, now that I think of it, it really must have been was quite insulting. Pushed aside by your brother for someone whom would never accept him if they knew the truth. But I couldn't kill Deb, can't, I need her safe; for my own selfish reasons maybe but I can't let die. The thought of killing Biney for her sake even crossed my mind, but I just can't indulge in the idea. We are blood brothers, intrinsically linked; our blood is the same, tainted by the same black oil which melds the dark passenger to us. My brother, the only person who could ever possibly understand the constant, relentless need, the rush of euphoria as the flesh rips and the blood spurts, as life slowly ebbs from tortured eyes...
Twenty minutes.
From my viewpoint under the level of shutters I see the homicide office, at full capacity now; like a distorted, disturbed street carnival which it yearns to join, standing I level my whirling head; the scent of the mêlée arousing my senses. Adrenalin begins to rage. Fighting with the noisy crowd, I reach the lieutenants' office where my sister has holed herself up apparently. I'm guessing she is still fairly traumatised from the whole ordeal, and meeting her ex-fiancée and almost-murderer isn't too high up on her list of things to do. I reach for the handle but the doors swings open before I can touch it. It's Sergeant Doakes.
Joy.
I'm not sure how he manages to restrain himself, but I get away with just a glare before he turns away and reenters the room. Not even a 'surprise motherfucker' shot my way. I'll just assume it's out of courtesy for my sister, then maybe this day can stay halfway sane.
If I was ever wondering where the ominous silence was my question would have been answered.
The room is silent, pin drop silent. The available seating being used by only three of the four, Doakes stands on guard like a bulldog over a bone, mutely observing the street carnival just beyond the bluish glass. My olive eyes travel the rest of the space, I see the fine leather of his shoes before I see his face, Captain Matthews' arms rest on the pine effect wood of La Guerta's desk as his thumbs bead his eyes; several large veins on his neck rise with the beat of his pulse. But what I find most strange is the occurrence on the sofa just to my right. Deb, on the seat, being comforted by La Guerta; of all people; she finally looks up at me, her face blotchy and eyes rimmed with red. I feel like I should try and bring up some sort of sad tale for her or tell her it's going to be alright, but I can't. My mind draws a blank. I've never been good for comforting people. So I sit by her side and just hold her hand. Her hand looks so small in mine, and I wonder what would Brian's feel like? Roughened and calloused? Or smooth and supple? He's held my hand before, It was awkward though, being bound by duck tape, I couldn't even feel them either, a resultant effect of the etorphine hydrochloride.
It surges in my veins like ice. He's here, in the building. I can feel it; it's a thrum, a heavy energy throbbing through my aching limbs. Dragging my body, I hug Deb distractedly and struggle to not run out the room. Pushing push past Doakes in the process, I hear a growl from behind me but I don't care, I escape. I push through multiple bodies swaying like a fleshy wave, fighting against the bloody current I keep going.
I need to see him.
I need to see my brother.
It's only been a week since I've last seen him; since I've even known he's existed, but the need is there now, the dull, aching throb growing harsher with his very proximity. The faceless bodies between my brother and I are my only, pitiful restraint.
Biney.
My heart pulses, tries to rip itself out of my chest, adrenaline slices my veins, and electricity taps my fingertips. He's in the elevator. Continuing to push, to pull, to get to the front of the flock of sheep I reach the helm when a warm, hard hand pulls my shoulder back.
"The fuck you going Morgan." Shit. Doakes.
"uhh...", because the only thing I can think of is 'I'm going to see Biney', and that wouldn't be a good thing to say.
For god sake Morgan, your sister is crying her fucking eyes in there and you run the fuck out? I know you're as fricken' retard but seriously? What's wrong with you?"
Now that's a question that I really don't want to answer.
"Don't tell me you're scared of the fucker?" A slight smirk curls his lips as he finds amusement in his taunt, Scared? Not quite.
The room goes ominously silent, Doakes loosens his vice like grip and I take the opportunity to twist away from him.
Sliding through the remaining sheep I see the reason, Brian's on the third floor now.
Four more. Thirty seconds.
The silence seems to grow more foreboding, deeper, darker. All of a sudden it seems to hit people that maybe it's not a great idea to have a face-to-face with a prolific serial killer.
Not a problem for me.
Ten seconds.
My palms are sweating; it feels as though my heart is in my mouth, my stomach is lurching. Is this a feeling? Anticipation?
Five seconds.
I'm nervous. Agitated. My blood's pumping, everything's racing, and he's just so close.
Three.
Two.
One.
All this situation needs is some smoke machines and Darth Vader sequence music to make it any tenser.
The elevator door slides open smoothly, the regular hitch in the runner non-existent to my eager eyes. Angel walks in first, His face is stone cold., The sheep behind me uses me as a barrier to peer over, their faces wide with horror or fascination.
Ready for the main attraction?
Surrounded by a multitude of nameless police officers, all male, is him.
My brother.
Flesh and blood.
A serene smile graces his face that is completely inappropriate for the given situation, but I don't care. He's here. I can feel our passengers blend and taste each other, getting acquainted. Realising he must have noticed me; I meet his eyes, rusted brown to swamp green, and he stops walking. I almost laugh as I understand the sudden gust of air behind me and the hushed breath.
He's behind the glass separating the department to the hall, so all I can see is a flurry of lips forming words. Angel grits his teeth but nods nonetheless, a beaming smile forms on Biney's face, his lips curl over his straight white teeth, they pace back towards the glass doors that separates us, the flock behind me moves back, leaving me to standout alone. Doakes is behind me, muttering about my freakiness again, but that isn't important. Not anymore. It's just me and Brian now. I'm ready. The glass doors slide open silently, Brian's in front now, flanked by the officers just as I'm flanked by the rest of the police department. It's like a twisted parody of boxer's baiting, but neither of us will lose. My darkness intertwines with his, a perfect harmony of bone saws and cleavers. I find my feet moving, step by step. The distance between us is minimal now; two meters at the most, the magnetic hum of our blood pulling us closer together. We stop at two feet. The sheep surround the wolves, how deliciously ironic, and they wait with baited breath. Even the good sergeant is quiet. An answer perhaps? The room is so silent that a pin could drop and the echo would be heard.
Our faces blank, unmasked, people must see resemblance. There's a smirk plastered on his face as Brian opens his mouth.
"Hello, little brother."
Hello, I'm not a big story writer so I'm sorry if this does'nt flow or whatever. Just comment anything, good, bad, to be improved. etc.
I can't wait for the 5th season, so to tide me over i thought I'd try to write this. I know its a sort of AU from Season 1 episode 12 but i just love Brian. i think the 5th Dexter book probably kindled that flame again. XD
I hope you like it.
Please R&R
P.S. I may continue this. Depends on response.
p.s again... Can't wait for season 6! Ahh!
