It had been a few days since the incident with Mr. Drummble and Mandark studied Dexter's face from across the Biology classroom. If anything, Dexter's daydreaming had only gotten worse and Mandark wondered why this was. No, he more than wondered-he was a scientist, dammit! He was determined to find out. The bell rang and he was about to follow Dexter to lunch when Mrs. Garrett stopped him at her desk.

"What is wrong with Mr. McPherson? Do you know?" Mandark shook his head impatiently. Did anyone want him to succeed with his plan?

"No, why," the boy asked without really wanting an answer. All he really wanted as to finish up with his plan and move with his lab and his life. Was that really too much to ask? Mrs. Garrett shifted in her chair as if having an internal battle over whether or not to confide something in Mandark. This perked his interest and he minutely leaned forward to listen.

"Well, you seem to be his friend and I thought maybe you would know why he's...declining in his grades for this class." Mandark's eyebrows shot to his hairline. Dexter was failing his science classes now? His daydreaming really had gotten bad. Why was this?

Still considering potential reasons-fantasising about his raven rival?-Mandark waved a half-hearted farewell to his teacher. "Thanks for telling me. I'll definitely ask him about it." And he was gone before the Biology instructor could regret what she had done.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

Mandark narrowly dodged people in the hallways as he made his way to the cafeteria. What was wrong with Dexter? He fortunately got there without hurting himself or others. He spotted Dexter from the lunch line. The redhead was sitting by himself in a shadowy area of the lunch room, poking at his food. Mandark eased himself out of line without buying anything and plopped himself down next to Dexter...or at least, he attempted to. As soon as he hit the seat, his back hit the floor. It took him a moment to realise he had just fallen off of the table's bench. Dammit....He jumped up and instantly brushed himself off and sat down next to Dexter again. He cleared his throat loudly in an attempt to make the redhead forget what just happened, causing the latter to roll his eyes wearily.

"So how are you doing?" He asked, casually leaning his way into someone else's forgotten mashed potatoes. 'Shit!' He thought as he wiped his elbow with the cheap scratchy napkins the school provided. Nothing was going right!

"Why do you care?" Dexter snapped.

Mandark looked affronted. "What do you mean, 'why'? Because I-"

"Like me?" Dexter laughed hollowly and the sound made Mandark shiver. "Why would you? I'm a wannabe know-it-all and no one can stand me, I'm always mean to you, and I rejected you harshly, my teachers think I'm a troublemaker and I'm beginning to think they're right, and now-" his eyes widened and he cut himself off looking sick. Dexter's green face did not go unnoticed by Mandark and his concern worried him. He brushed it off as being perfectly in character.

"Are you okay?"

"What do you think?"

Mandark was happy when his veins flooded with beautiful anger. "Don't bite my head off just because I asked you a simple question!" He turned away, seething and trying to blow up the wall with his glares. Why did he even bother asking Dexter questions like that? It was not as if he cared about the ginger, it was not even as ifDexter liked him enough to want Mandark to like him. They were supposed to be enemies and nothing more. If it was not for the humiliation and depression he wanted to bestow on the other scientist, he would not even be sitting next to him now. A light sniffle alerted him and he looked at Dexter in surprise.

The redhead held his face in his hands, his skin an even darker green than before. Mandark hesitated, watching the smaller boy with his own slightly sick reaction. However, when another shudder ran through Dexter's body, accompanied with a sob, Mandark jumped to comfort the boy.

He wrapped his arms around Dexter from behind and gently rocked the boy. He wondered at the feeling of guilt and sadness ripping across his chest every time another sob broke free from Dexter's throat. He rested his chin on top of Dexter's head and the redhead found the gesture oddly comforting. He nearly moved to snuggle closer to the other boy, but pure exhaustion stopped him. When you were already tired from the stresses of life, crying about it just made the exhaustion worse.

Mandark started to shush Dexter simply because he did not know what else to do. "Come on, you don't want to do this here. Not in front of these people." He was pleasantly surprised when Dexter began to calm down. He breathed out into the coppery locks he was pretending to love, and Dexter discovered he rather liked being surrounded by Mandark's arms. It was not like the first time when the older boy had him pinned against the lockers, breathing icy air across his cheek. It felt comforting and secure. He started when Mandark suddenly spoke.

"Maybe you should go home. You don't look so hot." They both blushed at the poor choice of words. The raven expected Dexter to bite his head off at his last statement, so he was-pleasantly?-shocked when the younger of the two smiled gently as if thinking about something.

"Thank you for your concern Mandark, but I assure you I'm fine."

He left before Mandark could ask him about his grades, and the older of the two could not help but hope his stuck up rival was going to be alright.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

But he would not be alright the next day. Mandark noticed the redhead's absence and their teachers did also. They shook their heads in quiet disdain for Dexter's inability to keep his head above the slime surface of grades. Mandark did not appreciate their unconcern. He knew something was wrong with Dexter because the Dexter he knew would be able to keep his grades up and then some. No, something was definitely up.

He refused to believe he cared.

He arrived home and had barely set down his school bag when his mother fluttered into the room.

"Good afternoon Susan," she greeted cheerfully. Mandark's mother had a wave that seemed to ride through the air, rising and falling like the tide. It was a melodic voice, one that made any listener joyous to listen to it; well, any listener except for her son. Mandark grimaced. Could she not see how much he hated his birth name? So he only grunted in reply, refusing to even look the woman in the face. After all, his mother did not deserve an answer if she could not find the will power to use his real name.

She persisted in talking to her son, hoping he would eventually begin talking back to her. "So Susan, how was school today?" When she did not receive a reply, she cleared her throat nervously. "Great? Yeah, I thought so. You always do well."

Mandark rolled his eyes at his mother's theatrics. Why did she always have to put him through this every time they had a conversation? She always tried to make him feel like she loved him more than he loved her. He almost turned around to go straight upstairs when her next sentence stopped him in his tracks.

"Someone called for you while you were at school." She mumbled. When she saw that her son's interest in what she had to say had caused him to turn back around, she grew excited.

"Yes, they said they needed to talk to you. It was urgent, you could tell by their voice."

"Well, what did you say? What happened?" His voice held no anger, only a frenzied curiosity as to know what had been said. His mother's smile widened.

"I told him you weren't here and would have to take a message.'

Mandark blinked. What?

"What?"

"I told him you'd have to take a message." She did not seem to notice the annoyance flooding, drowning, her son's features, for the petite yet tall redhead ploughed on through her story. "Well, actually what I said was, 'Mandark's at school right now, but I can take him out if I need to.' The person on the other end said it was okay and that they'll call back later. They said they needed to talk to you in person at least."

"Yes, well their 'urgent' message is going to have to wait until tomorrow. I'm tired and I'm going upstairs to nap." Even though he was supposed to be doing homework instead, his mother only smiled and let him wander up to his room, something Mandark found even more infuriating about his parents. They had no disciplinary skills. But then, what could one expect from hippies?

However, he tried not to think about them as he slipped between the black, freezing sheets. He did not bother taking off his clothes because he knew he could always do that later when he woke up. So he allowed himself to drift into a dreamless sleep.

~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~?~

The phone rang later on, and Mandark groggily reached for it, sighing when he noticed it was midnight. He had slept right through dinner and now someone had woken him up in the middle of the night-on an empty stomach. They were asking for his wrath to rain down upon their puny, unintelligent heads.

"You do realise there's school tomorrow, right?" He asked whoever was on the other end. They did not answer the question.

"Hey Mandark...."

The addressed shot out of bed, feeling a weird sort of feeling in his stomach. He managed to wave it all off before he spoke again.

"Dexter? Why...? Who...?"

"I just needed to tell someone why I wasn't at school today and...well, you're the closest thing I have to a friend right now."

Mandark was taken aback at this. Mrs. Garrett had said something like that the day before, but it sounded different coming from Dexter's own mouth. He would have smirked at the success his plan was having if it were not for the nearly hopeless tone to Dexter's voice. Against his better judgement, he asked in his most soothing voice, "Hey, what's wrong?"

"My dad is in the hospital." Dexter did not lose the robotic quality in his voice that he was blessed with as a scientist. In fact, Mandark wondered if this were all a ruse, or if his phone was broken and only made Dexter's voice sound like he was indifferent. He could not, however, ignore the cold brick of lead diving down his esophogus into his stomach.

"What? Why? Are you guys okay?" Mandark tried to convince himself that he was only asking for Dee Dee, but some kind of restriction in his chest told him otherwise.

"We're all fine. Dad...he has an infection on his arm and since he has diabetes...." His voice faded away and Mandark snatched the phone from his ear so quickly, he scratched himself in the process of making sure he had not lost Dexter's call. When it showed as still connected, he pulled it back in time to hear the redhead's monotone disappear in favour of a sob. "The doctors are saying he's not going to make it."

Mandark's stomach now plunged to his ankles and he gulped. He had met Mr. Pherson before (people you knew were not supposed to die). He was not sure if he liked the idea of Dexter hurting over his father's possible demise.

"That's horrible!" He whispered. They did not speak for a while as Dexter quietly sobbed into the phone and Mandark spoke soft words of comfort to the boy he had come to think of as his enemy. Eventually Dexter's crying simpered down to soft whimpers.

"Um, Mandark?"

Butterflies pushed at the walls of Mandark's abdomen. He knew that this was it-Dexter was going to act like it never happened and he would go back to hating Mandark. After all, that was what Mandark would do in Dexter's situation. And he tried to convince himself that he was not upset at the thought.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

On-

"Can you come over to the hospital tomorrow? I'd really appreciate you being here with me....If it's no bother of course."

Dee Dee faded to the back of Mandark's mind as he imagined Dexter's small frame hugging the hospital bed in frightened sorrow. He could not even think of Dexter as pathetic when he saw that mental picture.

"Of course not. I'll be there as soon as I can."

He could practically see Dexter smiling through the phone. "Thank you Mandark. It really does mean a lot to me that you'll be here."

Mandark gasped yet the shocked sound went unheard as Dexter hung up his own cell phone. The raven stared at the tiny device in his hands for a while, replaying the conversation in his head. Namely his reaction when Dexter asked him to come to the hospital. His response had been so genuine....Why did he care so much about Dexter being happy?

The Son of Hippies was not sure he wanted to know the answer.