Chapter Twenty-One: Gat
The three boys stared at Van Kleiss, silent and tense and poised to act.
"Gat?" Rex finally asked, trying out the unfamiliar word. He sounded wholly unimpressed, and his expression matched.
Their would-be captor gave him an almost fatherly look. "Surely an agent of Providence should know the meaning behind Gat."
Neither Ben nor Rex rose to the bait, but waited for Dexter to provide enlightenment. The Boy Genius didn't disappoint, though by the thickening of his accent Ben could tell Dexter was extremely stressed at this unexpected and unwanted confrontation. Knowing Dexter like he did, he knew his friend was itching to adjust his glasses but didn't dare release his hold, so Ben reached over and put his hand on the redhead's shoulder to free him up, taking advantage of the protection the disruptor offered for as long as possible.
With extreme indifference, Dexter pushed his glasses back into place on his nose, saying, "According to Hebraic lore, Gat is the region of Heaven where unborn souls wait to come into the world. It's said that every time a sparrow sings, a new soul is born in Gat." Blue eyes fixed Van Kleiss with a glare that was just short of lethal. "Michael is simply playing off the biblical references associated with Providence in a weak attempt to imply he's either somehow capable of creation or possessed of a soul."
Van Kleiss smiled humorlessly at the dig, and there was a wicked, greedy gleam in his pale eyes as he stared at the boy. "Dexter. It's been far too long."
"For you, maybe," snapped the redhead.
"You know this jerk?" Ben asked out of the corner of his mouth.
Small and fierce, Dexter glared at the man that had ruined his health and hard-earned sense of security. "Unfortunately."
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
"What's wrong?"
"Where are my gloves?"
Utonium looked around the hospital room, expecting at any moment to see a flash of purple latex. Dexter sat nervously on the bed, clearly doing his best not to panic. He had bourn up well the past week, as eager as frightened to finally go home and painfully aware of the battle that lay before him as he dealt with the fallout of having been kidnapped. The greatest frustration was the impact of the dyconine overdose upon his system. The drug was known to have long-term effects upon the amygdale, triggering anxiety over the least things until they became full-blown phobias in adults. They had no idea of what the effects on a child would ultimately be. Already suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder (as inherited from his mother), Dexter had a number of existing fears that were magnified out of proportion, starting with his fear of dirt.
"I don't see them. Do you remember where you took them off?"
"I took them off in the bathroom," he said quickly, as if trying to make Utonium hurry. He hugged his hands close to his body; fearful of coming into contact with anything he wasn't absolutely sure was clean. "I don't know where they went."
The Professor came and stood before him, placing a hand on the boy's narrow shoulder. "I'll find them. If they're not here, I'll get you another pair. All right?"
Almost sick with fear, Dexter nodded, begging his father with his eyes to make things right again. Utonium smiled, trying to bolster his confidence, and said,
"Wait right here. I'll check in the bathroom."
At this point, it was simply easier and safer to humor Dexter and offer constant reassurance than to try to address the phobias. He needed to be healthy and secure and home before anything could be accomplished. It would take time – a great deal of it – to rebuild this young genius. Van Kleiss' selfish greed had set Dexter so far back that Utonium doubted he'd ever fully recover. Post traumatic stress was expected after a kidnapping, and until Dexter's hair grew back and the brown dye faded, his own appearance was a constant reminder of what had happened. Dexter avoided mirrors now, and since he was afraid of being alone, the Professor made sure to leave the door wide open as he stepped into the bathroom.
No gloves anywhere. He checked the trash and every nook he could see, knowing they weren't here but needing to be certain for himself and Dexter. Most likely the cleaners that came through last night thought they had been left over from the night before and threw them out. He smiled as he stepped out again.
"Looks as if we'll have to get you new gloves. I don't see them."
Dexter let out a small whine of fear, twisting his clenched hands against his chest in desperation and breaking the Professor's heart as he tried so hard to overcome what he knew was an irrational terror. "Are you going to leave?" he breathed. Except when he was asleep, his father had been with him constantly in the hospital, and the thought of being alone was at least as bad as being exposed to dirt and germs.
"No. Of course not," he replied. As he spoke he sat down beside Dexter, pulling him close against his side and holding him gently in a one-armed hug. "I'll send General Shaan."
A snort escaped Dexter at the notion of a two-star general running to the grocery to buy gloves even though they both knew Shaan would do it – or send Col. Dearing, his aide. Utonium was happy to hear a bit of amusement out of the boy even though it didn't last long.
"It's the least he can do, considering how much money the Plumbers owe you right now. Besides, the general said he was sending you something he thinks will help make you feel better."
"Gloves?" Dexter asked hopefully.
"I doubt it, but we won't leave until you have a pair."
"But I thought we were leaving at noon."
"If we have to delay things a little bit to get you gloves, we will. It's not an issue, Dexter."
"But - our flight home. I thought-"
He was trembling at the very idea of missing a scheduled flight. Always punctual, the suggestion of not keeping any sort of appointment was quite enough to set him off again. With a gentle hand Utonium smoothed Dexter's cropped hair, trying to calm him with indifferent results.
"It will be easy enough to change our flight if we have to. If all else fails, I'll charter a jet to get us home. Don't worry."
Dexter curled up tighter, leaning heavily against him but hesitant to hold on as per his usual habit without gloves between his hands and Utonium's jacket. The tension slowly drained from him, and Dexter sagged, hanging his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Dad. I . . . I'm sorry."
"Don't be. None of this is your fault. You're doing very well, Dexter. Give yourself time."
"I don't even know if I can go outside," he reluctantly admitted, his voice shaking. "I hate this. I hate what he did. I hate being afraid. I don't want to be, but I can't stop. I can't stop imagining what might have happened. What if he took me away from you? What if you weren't there? What – what if he killed you? I hate this! I can't . . . s-stop . . . thinking."
Tears too long held in check finally started, and Dexter gave vent to all the frustration and terror he was feeling. Knowing there was nothing else for it, Professor Utonium gathered his son into his arms and held him tightly. Even now Dexter could not bring himself to unclench his hands, but he pressed his face into his father's shoulder and poured out his misery. Utonium rested his chin atop the boy's hair – his dark brown hair – and silently thanked heaven above that despite his trauma, Dexter was here in his hold and alive and not a prisoner to the monster that had tried to kidnap him. He had experienced similar fears and nightmares to Dexter's, only he had a better grasp of Van Kleiss' tastes and character. Given his initial impression of the man, he did not want to imagine what might have been in store for his son if he had ended up in Van Kleiss' power. They were fortunate nothing more than a drug overdose and a concussion were the sum and total injuries of this incident.
He let Dexter weep, hoping he'd exhaust himself and get some more sleep before they left. He closed his eyes, mentally trying to figure out the best way to get him to the airport and through the crowded terminal and security. Dexter disliked crowds at the best of times. The Professor was certain that, like his other dislikes and fears, this would also evolve into a full-blown phobia. Just thinking about getting through security was giving him a headache and he knew a commercial flight back to Townsville would be out of the question. He sighed, wishing there was more information available on the effects of dyconine and knowing that Dr. Cardon would want regular updates on Dexter's progress for the sake of research.
Dexter's sobs had slowed, though his breathing was still shaky and he showed no inclination to move or be released. The Professor smiled to himself, perfectly willing to go on holding him until Dexter could make it on his own. If it took ten minutes or ten years, he would gladly do it.
"Professor Utonium?"
Forcing himself not to jump, he opened his eyes. A tall, slim man stood in the doorway. He looked to be a few years younger than Utonium, and the Professor got a quick impression of a military bearing from his neat suit and polished shoes and precision haircut. He stepped into the room, moving quietly as he set a duffle bag on a chair. With a quick glance at Dexter, he quietly asked,
"Is this a bad time, sir?"
Utonium looked up and saw blond hair and blue eyes that could rival Bubbles. He shook his head. There were no more good or bad standards now that Van Kleiss had reset the bar for them.
"No," he said just as softly. "Can I help you?"
From the duffle bag he produced a folder, which he set on the bed within easy reach since Utonium's hands were full. "That's what I was going to ask you, sir. My name is Charles Morton. General Shaan sent me. I'm your son's bodyguard."
OoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Remember when we first met, Ben, and you asked about the Presidential order making me Professor Utonium's ward?"
"Yeah," Ben said, never taking his eyes off the Pack. "The Russians tried to kidnap you."
Ignoring Rex's confusion, Dexter stared hard at Van Kleiss as if daring him to contradict anything he said. "It wasn't the Russians. That was just a rumor that started and we didn't suppress it because it served our needs. It was Michael Van Kleiss, working for his own greed, who not only tried but was partially successful in kidnapping me. In his ineptitude, he gave me an overdose of dyconine, the base of Dycho Psycho, which has the long-term effect of enhancing existing fears to phobias."
Ben gave the man a look he reserved for the worst scum of the universe. He nodded in understanding. "So it's his fault you're so weird."
The redhead didn't even acknowledge the comment. He just reminded himself that this was his best friend and wrote off the observation as Ben being Ben. "Nyeah. He's also the reason that at the age of twelve, I had to go through detox."
"Nice," was Tennyson's sarcastic assessment.
Said Van Kleiss dismissively, "Water under the bridge."
"Not if you've built a dam," snapped Dexter.
"I didn't bring you here to harm you," the dark-haired EVO stated, his accent disguising the malice in his words. He shifted forward a step.
Dexter tightened his grip on Rex as he felt the Latino pull away slightly, straining to have at the Pack. Like the EVOs opposite them, he was impatient with the monologuing, being used to full-out action when faced by enemies of Providence, but Dexter was steering the conversation where he wanted it to go. Rex didn't immediately recognize the battle going on right before his eyes, though Ben, long used to Dexter's ways, knew exactly what was happening and so kept his silence and his peace – for the moment.
"No. You brought me here to sell me to my Fusion double for Fusion Matter."
Dexter was an astute enough business mogul to know that his announcement took Van Kleiss by surprise. A slight tilt of the head, an instinctive flexing of the hands, a change in the man's breathing, and he knew he was right in with his surmise.
"Sell is such an ugly word, Dexter."
"Why should it taste so bad now? You would have sold me three years ago."
"Certainly not!" exclaimed Van Kleiss, feigning indignation. "I would have kept you for my own and raised you and been your loving father."
Forcing himself not to shudder at the notion, Dexter's glance slid briefly to Breach where she stood just behind her leader. The EVO girl clenched her teeth and stared at him with hatred in her pale green eyes before Dexter looked back to Van Kleiss and said,
"Because you're such a loving father now? I have a father, Michael, and he's perfect. He thwarted you once before and he'll do it again."
Ignoring the implications of the Boy Genius' pointed look and comment, Van Kleiss chuckled at such bravado and sneered at the notion of the Professor being able to outsmart him when his plan had advanced so far. "There's no way Utonium can possibly find you down here."
Dexter shrugged. "Believe what you like, but know this: if I come to the least harm, you're the ones who will pay, and unlike you, Patrick Utonium is no fool."
The tall man leered down at him. "Meaning?"
With a smirk Dexter replied, "Find out for yourself."
The unamused smile was returned. "I believe I shall." He turned and walked back toward his waiting minions, gesturing casually as he ordered, "Don't harm Dexter."
Ben looked to Rex. "Keep him safe," he snapped. "Get him out if you can."
"What are you going to do?" demanded Rex.
Ben let go of Dexter's shoulder to activate the Omnitrix, smiling as he said, "Go hero!"