Epilogue: First Light

He awoke to early morning twilight filling the room, a gentle gray light that cast no shadows. For the first time in two weeks he had slept undisturbed the night through. Dexter blinked and tried to focus his eyes, but it was hopeless. Luckily his sisters were color-coded, so he could tell that Bubbles lay on the opposite side of the bed and Blossom was stretched across the foot of the bed and Buttercup sprawled half-on, half-off the loveseat over by the wardrobe.

Exhaustion still had him in its grip, and his throat and ears ached after so long without any pain killers, but there was no way he was going to move yet. He could feel his body's need for more rest and recovery time, but waking up was different this time. The melancholy mood that had settled in upon him, while not entirely dissipated, had changed. It had lessened to something manageable, a lingering sadness and not the hopeless despair that had been consuming him since Ben had left for Canada.

A warm hand rested on his shoulder, the source of this newfound content. Not even Ben was as expert as the Professor at keeping the nightmares at bay. He sat between Dexter and Bubbles, leaning against the headboard and propped up by numerous pillows. The whole family had crowded onto the bed and talked far into the night – far later than Dexter had managed to stay awake, he was sure. For some reason he was reminded of the times when he was very little and frightened by thunder. He used to sneak into DeeDee's bed and she would always hold him and tell him silly stories to distract him. It had never occurred to Dexter to go to his parents' room for comfort. It simply wasn't there. Not for him, anyway.

He couldn't imagine his father sitting up with him all night as the Professor had, or even wanting the steady physical contact Utonium offered. It was a simple gesture, a hand resting on his shoulder, and he could not picture his father or mother doing it. His parents had only wanted him on their terms. Patrick Utonium didn't just want him as part of his family, but he needed Dexter almost as much as Dexter needed him.

What would life have been like if his parents had loved him and related to him? He couldn't imagine it because those people would not be his parents. Would he even be the genius he was, in that case? Would he have the fits of anger and depression that drove him to such lengths? Would they allow him to work for days on end when the drive took him to create? Would he have DexLabs? Would he even know the Powerpuff Girls? The Professor? The Plumbers? Ben?

Would he have built such high walls against the whole world? Would he have needed to?

He abandoned the exercise as useless and annoying. There was no way of knowing what might have been and no point in wondering. The emptiness of his past was gone. Banished. Since meeting the Utoniums his life had been filled to overflowing. He would not trade a moment of this life for anything – every tear and smile was worth the price. Even the sorrow was precious, because it was his and it was so much better than the bleak ignorance he had known because now he had people to share in his life.

Shifting closer, Dexter rested his head against the Professor's leg, letting his breath out in a long sigh as he closed his eyes. He felt sleep steal upon him, a welcome sense of weightlessness. The hand left his shoulder to pull the blankets up close and warm over his back and neck before resting lightly on his hair.

I'm right here, the Professor seemed to be saying, a renewal of the promise made last night. I won't leave you.

All was safe. All was well. His father was home and right at his side.

Sleep quickly claimed him, and he didn't dream.

- Fin -