Author's Notes: I have no excuse for this taking so long. But have at it, I'll keep writing this no matter how long it takes, I promise.

Chapter 2 'But…Glitches Don't Dream'

"Without you there's no reason for my story, and when I'm with you I can always act the same." -Anarbor

A few eventless days later, it was 3 am and Freakazoid was having a dream.

Now, if you've been paying any attention at all you'd know just how weird, odd and possibly wrong this was for the super teen extraordinaire. Because Freakazoid, as a computer program housed in a human brain, didn't really sleep. Even if he could get the internet in him to shut the hell up long enough to let him rest, he never really felt tired or sleepy in the first place. He simply kept on running, day and night, drank coffee only for the taste of it, and never really understood what NyQuil was for.

So, as a being that didn't sleep, it was beyond strange, even for him, to be dreaming.

But he most certainly was dreaming, everything was in place except for the fact he was one hundred and ten percent awake, staring at the ceiling of the Freakazone as images flickered behind eyes like video clips, complete with sound. It all felt oddly familiar, like watching a movie he'd seen a thousand times over, like a memor-wait. Maybe….maybe that's what he was doing.

Not dreaming but…remembering?

Huh. Funny, he didn't remember going into his files and digging up old recordings. That was the sort of thing that generally required a conscious effort, not to mention knowledge of where to look and what to look for. Yet for some reason Freakazoid was lying stretched out on the Freakazone's couch, boots crossed and hands behind his head and….not doing much of anything. Just thinking. Now, seeing.

Admittedly what he was seeing was jumbled, voices came through at him, yelping, crying, gasping-yelling. Terror filled his system and he didn't even know why. Someone called for someone, him? Was he being called or was he doing the calling? Oh God he didn't know! Who needed him? Who did he need? He was a super hero for Heaven's sake, who would he ever need to help him-

Blood suddenly flew past his face in a wet sticky splatter, and Freakazoid reeled back in raw horror, his mouth opened to cry out because somehow he instantly knew that this blood-this blood was, belonged too-

"DEXTER!"

The memory stopped playing, complete with the bzzt noise a VHS makes when it's paused too fast.

And the Freakazoid was left sitting up on his couch, panting and shaking and mind going a mile a minute. To be fair that's what it always did (he was the Freakazoid, after all. He never slowed down.) But this time it was different and dangerous and Freakazoid didn't like it, he didn't like it at all. He got to his feet and looked around, noting that the Freakazone was dark. Nothing was working, his microwave which read the time but never actually microwaved anything was blinking 12:00 eerily. It wasn't…that time, he realized dimly, unconsciously tapping into the net, confirming the true time to be 3:12 am as he shifted uneasily in his boots.

He needed…he needed…

So Freakazoid, in his state of mild terror and panic, swiftly exited the Freakazone and without thinking headed for the second dearest place in the world to him-Dexter's mind. Almost immediately upon entering, standing there in the spaciousness of his partner's brain, the superhero took a breath and felt himself starting to unwind. It was hard not to with Dexxy's amazing, reassuring presence humming softly all around him.

Dexter Douglas' mind was a very special place after all.

Imagine you were on the highest mountain in the world, and it was night time, and you were standing there looking up and out, with all the earth spread out below you and the stars stretching out overhead. Suddenly you find yourself feeling so very small and insignificant in the midst of it all, simply a speck on the speck of another speck.

When he stood in Dexter Douglas' mind, that's how Freakazoid felt, the smallest speck. This was the only place on earth, even in the internet, where he felt like this.

It was grounding and jaw dropping, but it did make sense. Dexter was not like any other person on the planet who'd activated one of the Pinnacle Chip's flaws. Roddy and Gutierrez were good examples of this. Neither of them had a literal other thing in their minds-computerized superhero or no, that just wasn't what had happened to the two. Dexter was…special. Different. On the outside most people (these people not being anyone named Freakazoid) looked at Dexter and only saw a timid, meek little computer geek who had better luck with monitors and cats then he did socializing or, god forbid, lifting something heavier than five pounds. They thought Dexter was useless unless someone needed help with a computer and didn't want to pay an IT technician.

That's how Dexter saw himself too, unfortunately.

But Freakazoid had been the one to see him throw a car around using his telekinesis during a mere practice session with Roddy. Seeing that and then seeing the mental capacity Dexter actually had? It all made sense to Freakazoid. Dexter's brain was an amazing thing; it had to be, to house the one and only Freakazoid.

When he'd first entered the boy's brain and had made himself at home that fateful Christmas, Freakazoid had found himself stunned and awed at the size of his new companion's mind. It was amazing! Something so thin with no muscles and tape wrapped around his glasses-all THIS was in THAT body?! Zoids!

Somehow, that's how Freakazoid had known he was home, that this was where he belonged, in Dexter's Douglas' mind. He had a feeling, and time showed this hunch to be true, that while there were many large strong capable minds and hearts out in the world, none were quite like his Dexter's.

And Freakazoid was okay with that. He didn't want anyone else but Dexxy to snuggle his mental self up too anymore. Having tasted such brilliance and vastness, he couldn't even consider accepting anyone else. This mind was his, to cherish and protect. It was huge and strong but oh-so gentle, and the chaotic internet that was the very essence of Freakazoid felt oddly content to swirl around inside it as needed. Dexter…kept him in line.

Dexter was his everything.

The hero paused before a simple wooden door with his boy's name etched into the wood in a very neat font. He considered knocking, but wasn't sure if he wanted to wake poor Dexxy from his sleep, sleep that he so obviously needed…oh, nutbunnies.

"Dexter…?" Freak called softly, reaching for the knob. It gave way to his touch grudgingly but without even a squeak from the hinges. "Dexxy?" The hero bit his lip and poked his head in. Now that he was actually here, the feeling of being scared from, from a silly thing he wasn't even supposed to be capable of having in the first place was starting to catch up to him and he felt…foolish. Sheepish even. He shouldn't wake Dexxy up for this, right?

But…he could still hear that shrill, desperate cry for help.

"Hey, Dexter? …Buddy?"

That did it. Dexter was a light sleeper when he wanted to be, when he had something on his mind. The boy in the single bed sat up slowly and rubbed an eye, glancing first at the only other thing in the room, a computer in sleep mode that was wearily showing the log in page from it's place on top a simple wooden desk. Realising that wasn't what had woken him Dexter blinked and looked round the rest of the room, finally spotting his alter ego hovering by the door.

"Uh…hey Freak."

Freakazoid felt himself relax at that gentle if confused voice and hurried over to his side.

F!

To say Dexter was confused would be the understatement of the year.

He had just been woken up out of a (thankfully) dreamless sleep. Freakazoid might know about his dreams of a certain blonde they both knew and loved, but that didn't mean he wanted said dreams to be broadcasted all over their shared mind!

Fortunately it seemed like Dexter's dreams and their subjects were far from Freak's mind as the hero slunk into the, the 'Dexterzone' for lack of a better word. The computerized teen glanced away from Dex sheepishly but his body stepped forward, till his knees hit the side of the bed and, oh-

Freak wouldn't come here in the middle of the night for no reason.

The little geek and blinked and, moved by some inner instinct, sat up in bed and held his arms out slowly. Freak blinked back at him at the gesture, then his lips quirked up into a tiny smile and he leaned over obediently for a brief hug, his strong arms gripping Dex very briefly and carefully, before pulling back and looking embarrassedly at the floor.

"Freakazioid?" Dexter asked, his own voice soft in the vast silence of their brain. He noticed vaguely Freak's high-wired mind was very quiet for once almost…withdrawn.

"I….I think I had a nightmare." Freak finally admitted softly

Dexter blinked. "…Oh." His brows furrowed and suddenly he was shifting in bed, moving away from Freakazoid, who's mouth fell open at the move, heart sinking as Dexter pulled away…

And then a thin hand patted the space beside the boy that had opened up.

It was Freakazoid's turn to stare.

"It's okay." Dexter coaxed gently when the hero didn't move. "It's okay, Freakazoid, nightmares aren't real, right?"

Of course Dexter was blissfully unaware that what Freak had relived, not dreamed, (dreams were fake, memories were not) was a memory horrific enough that the only way to describe it WAS a nightmare. The brown haired boy simply watched Freak with big brown eyes and a soft smile Freakazoid took solace in without even noticing it.

"...Yeah, right."

"Do you want to talk about?" Dex asked softly.

"I…not really Dexxy."

The boy just nodded sympathetically and moved over more as Freakazoid finally kicked a neuron into gear, and clambered onto Dex's small bed, resting his back uneasily against the head board. Dex lay down next to him and buried his nose into his pillow. Freak knew his boy had stuff to do in the morning, and sleep was important to Dex. God even in his own mind, which was a reflection of what condition his body was currently in out in the Real World, Dexter hardly made a dent in the mattress. Freakazoid couldn't help it; he bit his lip and stared at that skinny wrist next to him on the pillow. Freak could wrap his whole hand around it on a good day-now it looked like his boy was made of paper, or glass.

Last weigh in: 7/21, 5'6 when he didn't slouch so bad and 118.43 pounds. Freak mulled over the last self check-up he and Roddy were making Dexxy go through and his frown came back.

"I thought you…didn't get bad dreams Freak…" Dex's groggy voice broke him from his thoughts and the hero glanced down at the teen curled next to him. He tried for a tiny smile, wondering if it looked as sheepish as he currently felt.

"Erh, yeah me too. Maybe it's just another side effect from…splitting, you know? Like your eyes." And the wasting away you did when we rejoined. I think I literally sucked some of the life out of you to rejoin, I think I really am a leech.'

Freak wisely kept that thought away from their shared thought pool.

Dexter just hummed quietly and blinked a couple times. Freak saw that and chuckled a tiny bit. "Get some sleep buddy; I'm sorry I woke ya for something silly." He said, patting a bony shoulder fondly.

"No…you didn't, it's okay," Dex mumbled as he curled up closer to Freak feebly and yawned again. Freak's smile grew. Too cute.

Dex didn't say anything when Freak rested his hand on his shoulder, but that could have been because he was asleep.

Either way, it was making the Freakazoid feel better already, and for that the hero was grateful.

He had the best human ever.

F!

The next day dawned bright and clear, and Dexter even managed to wake himself up at a reasonable ten o clock, which he assumed was just in time to avoid Duncan and his parents so that he was free to go downstairs and make his own breakfast. Without even knowing it he hummed as he poured some cereal and rolled his eyes fondly when Freak prodded him into making some toast too.

(Oh! And put peanut butter on it, yum! Protein's good for ya Dex!)

"Okay, Freak." Dexter laughed and held out a hand. The bread box lid lifted and its contents flew into Dexter's fingers.

(Dex all that practice with your telephon-teleess…that moving stuff with your mind bit, has been paying off! I bet you could even throw Duncan!)

"Telekinesis Freakazoid, and you know how I feel about violence." Dexter scolded gently like a parent as he poured himself some orange juice and watched as two slices of bread dropped quietly into the toaster, the lever sliding down on its own as Dex turned away.

(Yeah…) It was a faint grumble. (But-)

"No butts Fr-"

"Talking to yourself again Dorkster?" Dexter leaned forward in his chair to avoid the 'playful' swing his brother tried to deliver to him as he stomped into the kitchen.

"Morning, Duncan." The boy said warily, having to get up and grab his toast when it popped on the counter. No telekinesis around anyone, Roddy had said. Well that was fine with Dexter, who wasn't the hero of this story and didn't think he should pretend to be.

"Shut up, wimp."

"Oh now dear, he wouldn't be so much of a wimp if you two didn't roughhouse so much, you know," Said their mother as she stepped in to the room, heels clacking.

"Morning Mom." As usual, Dex was ignored. He didn't really mind, just nibbled on his toast and listened half-heartedly to the conversation going on around him.

"You could even teach your little brother to lift weights, how does that sound?"

"What?" No one seemed interested in Dexter's opinion, so he didn't give it.

"THAT little wimp? Yeah, I'm sure." his older brother snorted, brushing past him. "Come on, look at him, what the hell could he lift?"

(An entire school bus, asshole.)

Dexter choked on his orange juice.