My thanks to thanan and tr for the reviews! I greatly appreciate your comments. If in my ignorance I make any huge, honkin' errors please let me know and I'll do my best to correct them. Enjoy! - LB

Chapter Two: Panic and Reason

By his best estimate they traveled for four or five hours, though by land, water or air he could not say since the transport did not feel in any way similar to the modes of transportation he was used to. When finally the Mech stopped moving, they were moved at laser point from ship to cell through an echoing, run-down facility. Dexter made no attempt to be subtle as he took in their surroundings. The halls they were moved through were old, industrial, and smelt of burned metal. The windows were dark with grime, but through a few broken panes he caught sight of smoke stacks and conveyors, long abandoned. He could only conclude that they were in a metal refinery or steel mill. It was cold here and night was falling. With a little more information he was sure he could pinpoint their exact location.

Not that such information would be immediately useful, seeing as how his communicator had been taken away from him by their captors. He was glad that was all they took, and he hoped they took no more.

His sister stumbled alongside him, terrified. DeeDee's face was stained with tears but so far she had managed to keep from bursting out and bewailing their fate at the top of her lungs. She looked very miserable and he felt a stab of guilt that she should suffer on his account, even though he was no less frightened or miserable. Dexter hesitated, and then held out his hand to his only sister. She sniffed and latched onto him tightly, drawing closer and even trying a small smile of thanks. He gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. Given his greater calm, anyone looking at them would have thought that Dexter was the elder of the two even though she towered over him.

The cell that was to be their new habitation was strangely out of place in the midst of the old factory. Housed deep beneath the complex, it was stark and white and completely modern. It was also annoyingly secure, as he discovered the moment the door closed seamlessly behind them. He inspected every wall, every inch of the place. Nothing. The air vents were very small and well out of reach of both of them. The entire ceiling was a light panel, glaring bright and with a sickly green tint to it. Other than that . . . nothing.

He sighed, leaning his hands against the cold metal door and hanging his head, giving in to his frustration for a moment. That simple gesture undid all of DeeDee's resolve and she sniffled as the tears came in earnest. Dropping to the floor, she wrapped her arms around her knees and hid her face.

"What're we gonna do, Dexter?" she whined.

He straightened, turning to face her. "We're not going to panic. That will get us nowhere."

"What else is there to do?"

"We could try reasoning out our situation, perhaps."

She gave him a blank look, and he threw his hands up in defeat.

"Fine. Panic. Let me know when you're done."

He folded his arms and looked away in a huff, but his refusal to indulge her was enough to distract DeeDee from the impulse to waste her energy on tears. Reasoning was not her forte, but given the fact that Fusion Monsters had snatched them clean out of headquarters (which, she thought with a very small spark of glee, would make Mandy furious) and were holding them prisoner, she was willing to give it her best try. She sniffed, hugged her knees tighter, and ventured,

"Well . . . what do they want?"

"Us," he said simply. He clasped his hands behind his back and slowly paced. This was his usual stance for when he was thinking and true to form, DeeDee just kept prodding him.

"What for?" She frowned, watching him walk back and forth.

"I can think of about a hundred reasons without straining."

When he wasn't forthcoming with any of those reasons, DeeDee ordered, "Name one."

"To impede our war effort."

"What does that mean?"

"To slow down our side of the fight."

"Oh. Well, how did the Mechs know we'd both be in your lab just then to come in and get us?"

He whirled on her, his blue eyes blazing with something that might have been anger but also might have been pride. Pointing a finger at her for emphasis, Dexter exclaimed, "That, DeeDee, is probably the most intelligent question you have ever asked in your life!"

She waited, triumphant, and finally demanded, "So what's the answer?"

He strode over to where she sat in a knot on the floor. Leaning over, he said in a tight whisper, "There is a spy in our headquarters."

She gasped, and he gestured sharply for her to be silent.

"Who?" she breathed, wide-eyed and alarmed for her many friends.

His accent thickened as his disgust grew. "If I knew that for certain do you think we'd be here?"

"Um . . . no. So where are we?"

"This is either an old metal refinery or steel mill. My best guess is that we are somewhere in western Pennsylvania."

Since his best guesses were far more reliable than her hard and true facts, DeeDee did not question. She knew better than to ask him to explain how he figured things out. Instead her mind fixated on the way he pronounced 'Pennsylvania.' Each vowel and syllable was stressed, and somehow it seemed like a much longer and more exotic word when he said it.

"Dexter, why do you talk like that?"

Someone must have commented on his Russian accent to her. Probably one of the Kids Next Door operatives. They were a curious lot in every sense of the word. Unlike Ben Tennyson, who had finally given up trying to figure out his accent and now just let it amuse him, Dexter knew full well the KND's so-called scientists had concluded he had some strange and exotic form of speech impediment. And they wondered why he had no patience with them . . .

He smiled faintly at his sister, feeling a sudden rush of affection for her. She was one of the very few things in this world that he could say was his. What DeeDee lacked in sense and intelligence and self control she more than made up for in good humor and enthusiasm. They would need that as much as his brilliance to survive.

"Why don't you?" he countered, letting the subject change. He was certain they were being watched, but he didn't know how closely.

She stared, astonished at the notion. "I don't know how you do it!" she finally responded, breaking into a smile and a small, anxious giggle.

He quietly echoed her laugh, glad for a moment of levity. "Well, neither do I! I've always talked like this!"

"Didn't Mom and Dad ever notice?"

His laughter ended in a snort and he shrugged, never having considered the idea. "If they didn't notice my laboratory underneath their house I sincerely doubt they'd notice that their only son speaks like a refugee from a Siberian gulag, to quote Ben Tennyson."

"A what?"

Patiently he explained, "With a Russian accent."

"Oh." She yawned. "Well, I like the way you talk. Don't stop."

As if he could. He smiled, and then stood up. Stripping off his gloves, he removed his lab coat and held it out to her. "Here. Try to get some sleep."

She hesitated to take it though it was really the only warm article of clothing between them. "Won't you be cold?"

He pulled on the purple gloves again. "No. I will not be sleeping. Pacing will keep me warm enough."

DeeDee gazed at him, dimly understanding his meaning, and finally allowed him to put the coat around her narrow shoulders.

"Thank you," she said with all sincerity, holding it tightly. "Good night, Dexter."

Better able to translate her wish for his success in figuring out their situation, he said with equal sincerity, "Good night, DeeDee."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"DeeDee! DeeDee, wake up! Wake up!"

"Whu?" She raised her head, squinting at the light. It wasn't nearly as bright in here as when they had arrived. "What's happening, Dexter? Is it morning?"

"I don't know," he said, intent on rousing her. "Get up, please."

"Did you sleep?" she wondered, standing tall and gangly on her skinny legs. She stretched like a cat, making a squeaky noise as she yawned. The lab coat was far too short for her, though she was scrawny enough that it actually fit her frame.

"No. Listen to me. Someone is coming and I need you to understand what I'm going to tell you."

"Okay."

He leaned close, almost whispering, and she imitated his stance to hear. "I believe they've captured us for the sake of what I know. Word's reached them that I did a full analysis of Ben's Omnitrix a few days ago. That and the fact that I designed most of the weapons our forces have been using makes me very valuable and dangerous to Fuse."

"Can't they figure that stuff out for themselves?"

Dexter did not lose patience and snap at her as he had been prone to do in the past. He couldn't afford to do that now and the pleasure it had once generated was long gone.

"It's faster, easier, and more accurate if they can get the information out of me. And I doubt Ben would let them within a kilometer of the Omnitrix. It's alien technology unlike anything to be found on Earth or Planet Fusion."

"Well, don't tell them, then!"

"Oh, DeeDee." He huffed a despairing laugh. "I'll try not to, I promise, but they will try to force me to tell what I know. They will . . . probably torture me."

"Torture?" Her blue eyes grew wide and she seized his arm. "Like hurt you or tickle you?"

He pushed his glasses back into place, closing his eyes for a moment. "Uh, hurt would be more my guess."

"But you're just a kid!"

"They won't see me that way. Most of Earth's forces are kids. Fuse sees us as the army that we are. They don't care how old I am. All they'll care about is getting the information they want from me."

"Oh, Dexter!" She slid down the wall, staring up at him, and he crouched down at her side.

"Listen! I cannot, I will not let Fuse's scientists find out this information. Our side would be slaughtered."

She was used to missing half of what he said, but his intensity drove her to seek clarification. "What's that mean?"

"Killed without a fight. If they find out all our secrets, we'll lose in a matter of days and Earth will be one more planet devou - I mean eaten by Fusion."

She nodded, following him, her blonde pigtails bobbing. He took her hand in his, and even through his gloves he could tell her fingers were cold.

"DeeDee, they may even hurt you to try to get me to talk."

"Me? They would hurt me? I don't know any of the stuff you do!"

"Yes." Relief that he had gotten through to her filled him, and then a moment later tension replaced it as he soldiered on with what he needed to share with her. "They may hurt you and say they'll stop if I talk. DeeDee, I cannot tell them anything of what they want to know."

Again, she nodded, only this time her mouth was set in a firm line. "I . . . I'm not as smart as you, Dexter, but I think I can be as brave as you. We have to protect our friends."

He blinked at her, tears blurring his vision, and he managed a small, grim smile, grateful for her courage. She smiled back, squeezing his hand tightly. Brilliant and mature as he was, he was still a child filling an adult's role, and Dexter would forever be her baby brother and her favorite person in this strange world. Though they fought like cats and dogs, she loved him dearly, and she knew then and there just how completely that love was returned.

"If they make me cry, just pretend it's not me. And if I cry and you tell them, those tears will be wasted."

He sniffed. She had no idea of what they could do to her. What they would do to him. "I will do everything I can to keep you safe."

"Don't worry about me. And don't worry. Number Five and Mandy and Ben must know we're here. They'll come get us."

"Soon, I hope," he replied quickly, not believing a word of it but willing to put up a facade for her benefit. Suddenly the light panel overhead snapped on. He glanced upwards and winced. "But . . . we will need to buy them time to find us."

That she could grasp, and she nodded eagerly. Suddenly she tensed, listening. "I can hear someone coming."

He swallowed, trying to show the courage of his convictions. Warmth, strength, calm all fled in that terrible moment and he fought to keep his knees from buckling beneath him.

"Take your coat back. It might make you feel better."

He stopped her from shedding the lab coat. "No. You need it. Here." He pulled off his glasses and handed them to her. "Keep these safe for me. Do not lose them."

Without his glasses he looked even younger than his age. Blinking and squinting, he frowned as he tried to focus on her. It was a losing battle. Even DeeDee knew his vision was terrible. Gently she took the glasses, holding his hand for a moment, knowing that this moment was important for them both.

"Dexter?"

"Yes, DeeDee?" he asked, his voice soft so as not to betray the terror building inside him.

She smiled, actually noticing his accent and finding it suddenly endearing. "I'm very glad you're my brother."

He was trembling, but he managed to say, "And you are the perfect sister. I cannot imagine anyone less destroying my laboratory."

"I did that an awful lot, didn't I?"

"It's a talent."

"I -"

She broke off as the door swished opened. Three heavily armed Mechs filled the doorway. The center one pointed its clawed arm at Dexter, and a metallic voice issued forth.

"You. Dexter. You will accompany us. Resist and the female will be killed."

DeeDee gasped. He drew away from her, out of her hold, out of her warmth. Taking in a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders, standing as tall as his small frame would allow, and walked across the cold cell toward the door, a gladiator about to step into the arena.

"Dexter!"

He looked back, incapable of distinguishing if his blurred vision was the result of his appalling eyesight or the threat of tears.

"I understand," DeeDee said in a tone of voice that stirred a glimmer of hope buried deep within him. All he could do in response was nod his head, but it was enough that she understood him as much as the situation.