Author's Notes: Language picks up here. Thanks to my beta, as always, and thanks to my wonderful readers.

"A 404 error is a common website error message that indicates a page cannot be found. Regardless of the appearance, a 404 error means the server is up and running, but the webpage or path to the webpage is not valid."

Chapter 6

"I guess there's just a part of me that likes to bring you down,
Just to keep you around.
Cuz the day that you realize how amazing you are,
You're gonna leave me…" –Maria Mena

Dexter,

Good call about not letting Freakazoid go out and patrol. You're right, it wouldn't end well, but I think at this point it's safe to say that the Freak won't be provoked unless something hits close to home. And by that I mean you—

"Me? What does he mean, me?" Dexter asked the cat.

"Mrow," said Mr. Chubbikins from his lap.

"I think so, too," Dexter replied, fingers scratching behind the cat's ears.

"Nha…." a noise comes from across the room. "Lady in the…dress." Mumbled Freakazoid, who rolled over on his futon and flung an arm out from across the room.

Dexter counted to ten, then waited till he could hear Freakazoid snoring again. After a while he continued reading his mentor's email reply again, sighing a little softly.

Because I have a feeling that Freakazoid, who was basically more computerized maniac than he was human, you understand, still believes that you, as his alter ego, need to be looked after before everything else, even if that means being a hero.

Keep in mind, lad... the Freak was your other side before he was a hero, and before he was your other half he was a computer flaw.

Flaw. Flaw. Dexter suddenly hated that word. He wasn't mad at Roddy for using it, he just, he was mad that Freakazoid, so amazing and strong and kind, was called a flaw simply because he came from a bug in the Pinnacle Chip. Simply because he had to live in Dexter's brain to survive.

Logic and reason, even if he doesn't use it, are still the center of his world. As for the lad suddenly losing his blue, from what you're telling me it was sudden and, pardon the expression, out of the blue? There was nothing to provoke it? All the lights in the house still work, the power didn't go out? From my perspective, I can tell ya nothing in the internet went wrong. See if it comes back, if it doesn't, well….then it doesn't. So long as it doesn't interfere with him functioning I don't see it to be a problem.

Alright lad, I chewed yer ear enough. Good luck, and stay in touch.

-Roddy MacStew

Dexter let his head drop onto his keyboard. This was so confusing. And it was only getting worse. He typed a quick reply, a thank you, and made a mental note to pull apart his computer tower tomorrow and check to make sure the pinnacle chip hadn't molded or frizzed out to cause Freakazoid's sudden lack of blue. Even if he wasn't sure that's something the Chip would do, but it couldn't hurt to check, right?

It was weird at first, Dexter realized. Seeing Freakazoid without his blue skin-if he changed the color of his shirt from his trademark red then Dexter would really have trouble knowing who he was from far away.

As if Freakazoid would let him that far away to begin with. Dexter tip-toed to the bathroom down the hall, changed into his nightclothes, and then came back.

He stopped in his doorway for a second, the light from the hallway falling on his alter ego over by the window, fast asleep, mumbling and snoring to prove it. Dexter smiled.

"I don't care what anyone says," Dexter whispered into the darkness of his room as he clambered into bed. "You're not an error. You're a superhero, Freak." He smiles at the ceiling for a moment, then closes his eyes. "And superheroes are perfect."

F!

The problem with Dexter, Freakazoid decided, was that he didn't see his own worth. Freakazoid wasn't sure himself exactly the lengths it would take to get Dexter's confidence back up after Monday's fiasco. But. as Dexter's alter ego, he was ready and willing to do what he'd have to, and if that meant sticking at his side like a burr than by zoids, he'd do it! He was the Freakazoid, after all—Nothing Was Impossible!

Although maybe this task could be considered Not Impossible But Slightly More of a Challenge Than Freakazoid Expected because, really.

Here it was already Wednesday and Dex was slouching over his notes and writing diligently as the professor spoke in history class. Freakazoid sat next to him, sort of taking notes. And by notes, it more was like writing History II at the top of his paper, skipping a couple lines, then doodling three hippos wearing top hats and fighting with umbrellas... a couple dogs... and Mo-Ron's ship in the corner. Oh, and Foamy at the bottom, eating an ugly boy that had the word Duncan written across his shirt in Freakazoid's loopy, uneven scrawl.

Freakazoid sniggered at his creation, but when he stealthy it showed it to Dexter all the boy did was give him a withering look and pointedly go back to copying the overheard at the front of the room.

Freakazoid sighed and took the hint. He'd been doing the best he could for Dexter, making jokes, sitting by him at lunch. Only Dexter seemed too focused on other things, namely things other than his best friend, because he only nodded or half-smiled at the jokes, and they always ate lunch far away from the rest of the student body, either under a tree on the grounds or on the bleachers.

Today in History, Freak had even pushed their desks together, just to keep that closeness going. The kind old lady who taught them history (she was a good candidate for this job, Freak suspected—she must have been alive for all of this stuff anyway) hadn't said anything, and Dexter had only sunk down a little but let Freak stay. So he stayed.

But no matter how Freakazoid worked or Dexter hid, they both couldn't ignore that massive welt across Dexter's lip. It probably should have gotten stitches, or at least iced after he'd been struck. Now it was black and blue and almost green and maybe an off shade of purple, but no matter what it looked like, to Freakazoid it was still a reminder of what happened. What he'd let happen to Dexter.

That wound was Freakazoid's fault.

Freakazoid's pencil hovered over Duncan's ripped-off leg. He stared at it, but with unseeing eyes.

What those people did to Dexter, it made Freakazoid…angry. His brain paused. Angry? Did he, did he even get angry? He got peeved, yes, and ticked. Slighted. Grouchy. Hell, Dexter told him he could pull off one great pout, too. Sure, he didn't have the internet definition to run to any more, but just that word: angry. Freak could tell what it meant by the emotions crawling up his spine at the thought. Angry. Anger.

Hatred. Rage. Wrath. Fury.

Those jocks—they'd touched what was his. Dexter was his, by right. He was Freakazoid's other half, he was his property, and Freakazoid didn't like people touching his things without his permission. And harming them? Purposefully hitting Dexxy? Who was barely one hundred and fifteen pounds soaking wet? Dexxy, who had glasses and was so little? Oh fuck no, a whole new dimension of Hell would be opened up, he'd break their fingers. Their noses. A couple more fingers. Pull out their-

Several girls in the front row shrieked when the overhead light suddenly blew right out with a terrific snap, casting the already dark room into near nothingness.

Beside him, Freakazoid felt Dexter jump, and he automatically leaned closer to the little the geek's side.

"…Uh," Dex's whispered next to him. Freakazoid blinked a couple times, telling himself it was to let his eyes adjust to the dark.

The teacher flicked on the lights, and Freak watched her open the door and hurry down the hall to get a replacement bulb, then he looked over at Dexter. Around them, the class chattered and buzzed softly about the incident and about how the school budget was so sucky, but Freakazoid ignored them.

Dexter looked back up at him. "Is….is something wrong?" Dex asked when he noticed that slightly blank gaze from his alter ego.

Freakazoid seemed to come back to himself at Dexter's small voice. "Nothin'," He chirped immediately. "Jeez, Dexxy, how do you write so much-there's more on your paper than there was on the projector!"

"Er, well, I write down what she says too, just in case, y'know…"

"Of course you do, you're so smart!"

Dexter only nodded with a soft, tired smile, but didn't say anything.

After class ended, Dex stood up and stumbled a little, and decided the dizziness he was feeling was from standing up to quickly. Thankfully, Freakazoid didn't notice.

"Freakazoid, do you think you can take the bus home today by yourself?" The question came in last period, math class. The day was nearly done and the teacher was letting them relax after a test and get a breather. The class was mostly chattering, and Dexter poised the question softly in the back of the room where Freakazoid was with him as the once hero stuffed his books away.

"Huh? Yeah, I guess so…" Freakazoid mumbled, tilting his head. "How come Dexxy? Why ain'tcha coming home normal time today?"

Dexter smiled, looking a little more bright-eyed than he had earlier. "I help out in the library today after school—remember?" Freak's face fell a little. The library was the one place he was pretty sure he wouldn't do well in…Dexter seemed to have the same idea, hence what the boy had asked him to just take the regular bus home.

Freakazoid sighed. "Ohkay dokie, Dexter." Oh well, it'd only be a couple hours tops, right? Dexter…Dexter would be fine for a couple of hours safe in the library, where there were plenty of adults around anyway and no jocks and meatheads in the place, right?

Dexter's smile made the funny feeling in Freakazoid's head go away, if only for a moment.

"Thanks, Fredric." If there was a slight tease in the name, no one but Freakazoid noticed.

Freakazoid, against the little bell in his head that usually told him things about Dexter, set off home, whistling. He got off the bus stop with Duncan, who didn't look at him, but was glaring at the sidewalk as Freak trailed after. Fine, let him scowl, Freak couldn't help the grin on his face as he stared at Duncan's back and strutted after him. He didn't walk next to the bully—that was an honor that only Dexxy was allowed.

Duncan broke the silence first as he stomped up the steps to the house and dug out his keys.

"Why the fuck are you still even here?" Dexter's older brother spat out without warning, without even looking at Freakazoid.

In that moment, something inside of Freakazoid changed.

Not-Freak snorted and rolled his eyes. "If ya haven't noticed, dipstick, I belong here." The words were said before Freakazoid realized he said them, and so what if his voice sounded lower than normal?

And Duncan only gaped for a moment, mind processing.

Not-Freak leaned nonchalantly against the porch railing and let him. All poised and steady, his arms folded over his chest. If anyone who knew Freak noticed it, they would say it was the most closed, silently angry posture they'd ever seen from the fun, normally carefree superhero.

But Freakazoid wasn't a superhero anymore, was he? And he certainly was never normal—so why start now? In the back of Freakazoid's mind, he understood that dimly, watching what was going on in the real world from the back of his own head. It wasn't quite the Freakazone but it was... close enough?

"Oh yeah? D'ya? What makes ya say that—" And Duncan looked half tempted to close the door behind himself, only Not-Freakazoid didn't give him a chance. Taking the three steps up to the door in a single little jump, he was through the door and over the threshold, grinning at Duncan; a challenge.

"Be-fucking-cause, sport." Not-Freakazoid spit out the nickname with such venom it was a wonder the carpet didn't melt below him.

Duncan shot him a glare, a look of absolute defiance that lasted only for a moment, and then turned belly up and gave in. "…Just…stay outta my fucking way, twink."

Not-Freakazoid smiled darkly and said nothing.

When Duncan closed the basement door, Freakazoid blinked and startled a little at the noise and cast a glance around, more than a bit confused.

Where... where was he? He shook himself, looking around. He was in Dexter's front room. Oh. He must have switched off, come here automatically. He's heard of people doing that, of driving for miles and not remembering the entire drive. Sure, it was possible. But where was Duncan? Didn't he come home on the same bus ride?

"Huh, home already?" He shrugged then bopped upstairs to Dexter's room to wait for his human. Maybe he'd look around for Dexxy's gameboy or play a computer game, because yay computer games!

F!

Dexter stumbled into his bedroom just as Freakazoid looked up from his Pokémon battle, smile falling when he saw the state Dexter was in.

"…D-Dexter!" The other teen cried, abandoning his Gameboy entirely and shooting up from his futon, scrambling to Dex's side and gasping. Dexter lifted his shoulders, apologetic. He was sporting a nasty nose bleed and his lip had reopened. His tormenter had gone for his face again.

"What-what, I don't understand, are you-are you okay?" Freak grimaced even as the words tumbled from his lips. Stupid, stupid question, he clearly thought from the look on his face. Dex lifted his head and shook it, not wanting Freakazoid to feel sad.

Dexter pulled back, though, when he saw Freakazoid reaching for him. And he caught the hurt look Freak gave him, and god those pouty lips and those big eyes made it worse. Dexter spared him a look of total shame and pity, drawing into himself.

"I'm okay," he murmured, not bothering to wipe the blood away anymore. Not like it mattered, huh?

"Dexter, who…?"

Dexter looked away guiltily, like it was himself who was in trouble, but that was ridiculous.

"F-from Monday, that one guy with the….blonde hair. The l-leader." Oh crap, his stutter was back. No. No. Dexter screwed his eyes shut as if to will away the tears they both could see, and all he could think was 'How could I be so weak…? Such a loser, what does Freakazoid see in me?'

Something snapped somewhere that no one ever wanted to break.

"He left bruises," Freakazoid said slowly.

"I figured."

Freakazoid shakes his head. "On you."

"Yeah."

"…Do they hurt?" he answered his own question when Dexter tensed at the touch. Freakazoid's bright blue eyes were suddenly either really big, or his pupils were suddenly too small. Dexter couldn't tell, but he felt lost in those deep blue eyes. Then he heard Freakazoid's voice, and the spell was broken.

"He's gonna fucking die."

"W-what!"

Freakazoid stared at Dexter, his eyebrows knitted together. "Uh…that was weird. I felt funny…for a second," the once hero frowned slightly, rubbing his forehead. Dexter suddenly felt like he was missing something important about this, some major sign or a moment of turning that was going to change everything. Like... literally everything.

"Oh well." Freakazoid shrugged and gently took hold of Dexter's arm, tugging him lightly but insistently toward the bathroom down the hall. "Let's get you cleaned up, Dexxy," he said, voice soft and gentle again, one hundred percent focused back on Dexter.

Dexter, for his part, chalked it up to getting hit too hard and hearing things. Unlike Freakazoid, he didn't push away the tingling in the back of his head, but he carefully filed it away and promised to think about it again. At a time when he wasn't bleeding and hurting so badly, both inside and out.