Ties That Bind (Chapter 10: Escalation Pt 1)
Ties That Bind (Chapter 10: Escalation Pt 1)
author: Ken and Barbie
word count: 4,345
pairing: Dexter/"Rudy" (Slash), Referenced Dexter/Rita and Brian/Deb (Though not the focus of the story.)
rating: Mature / Adult / NC-17 (For possible adult situations, sexual content, slash, language, and gore.)
summary: An Alternate-Ending continuation of the Showtime Adaptation of "Darkly Dreaming Dexter". When it came down to the last moment, Dexter could not find the heart to finish off the only one in the world that could ever understand him. Now with Sergeant Doakes hot on his trail, and his sister Deb damaged beyond repair, Dexter comes to embrace his relationship with "Rudy" and accept him into his life. While under Dexter's roof, "Rudy" vows to repair the torn relationship between he and Dexter by abiding by the code set down by Harry with him, while slowly trying to convince Dexter to stop giving in to society's games. Together they move forward as wolves among the flock, trying to keep their secrets hidden and stay together despite all odds.
disclaimer: "Dexter" belongs to Jeff Lindsay and Showtime, not us. We wrote this story entirely for entertainment. Also, if you cannot handle murder, reference to adult situations, homosexuality, harm to other humans, and other controversial topics then this story isn't for you. We have no wish to offend anyone.
notes: MAJOR Spoilers. Do not read if you haven't seen the entire series, or read the book; as you won't understand the story at all.
It was the first time that he could recall playing the passenger to his own dark self. Dexter smiled the same, and offered the same gentle good morning to his co-workers, his hands happily offering donuts where he could; but something was different in his eyes. Something horrible had been lurking inside of him, now channeled and released; he found it impossible to focus on his co-worker's inane babble when he stared down at new bloody files strewn acrost his desk. It was hard not to lust after the perfect knife cuts, or the blood spewn acrost the wall like a beautiful new-age art peice that only Dexter himself seemed to understand. Crimson beauty that made his world worth something; made the mask worth having.
"I'm sorry. You busy talking to someone in there, psycho path?!", he heard the harsh voice of the powerful figure Doakes snarl out above him. Had Dexter been day dreaming again? Oh yes.
Those green eyes snapped up at the sound of the voice, though for once they did not feign innocence, but rather just stared directly at the man's; as if it were two dogs that were having a silent challenge.
"Don't know what you're implying, Seargent. ", he mumbled in a dead-pan sort of humor, a smirk tugging at the corner of the monsters lips as he offered up a file to him two two fingers. "Finished my report. It was definatly a professional. Someone clean. Neat. Premeditated, but passionate. A boyfriend, or maybe a co-worker would be my bet. ".
Dexter droned on robotically offering the awnser. To anyone else watching the specticle at the blood spatter expert's desk, it might have appeared as a normal exchange of words, but Doakes was almost enamored to watch Dexter's monster loose in his eyes. Deep down, they both had their own passengers, though Doakes was a different type of monster in itself. An albiet traditional law-abiding patriotics monster, but a monster none the less.
The man moved away from the desk in an unsettling silence, Dexter's slow callous grin almost unable to retain. It felt good not to meekly bend to the man's gaze for once. Felt good not to turn his gaze down in fear of Doakes seeing too much.
There were other things that were hard not to think about; like what exactly his brother had done the night prior. Dexter couldn't quite decide if he was angry, hurt, or perhaps a bit let down. It was a rather odd mix of emotions that made it entirely too hard to carry on conversation during the day with his sister, who innanely babbled and ate her lunch at his desk that day.
"Somethin' fucking bothering you, Dex?", blue eyed Deborah asked, bending curiously in her cop uniform to keenly eye her fake-brother Dexter. "You seem totally fucking spaced. . . ".
Had he been spacing out again? Seemed so. Dexter glanced up at her again past the gorey eight by ten photograph in his fingertips, offering a little bit of a shrug. "Breaking up with Rita. Just sort of not up for company right now. ".
Deborah's blue eyes widened a bit, melting into something of concern. Oh no. Not pity. He didn't want any of that right now. "Oh. . . fuck. I'm sorry, Dex. . . ", she whispered. " Just call me if you want to talk. And remember, you have to if you want to talk. . . ". The look of pity in her eyes was too much like Harry's eyes staring up at him from the dead, and it made some dark voice in his head whisper that he'd like to cut that look right out of her face.
It actually made Dexter shudder a bit. Things were going out of control. He was losing it. "I will. . . I have some work to do. ". Dexter mumbled, looking back down to his work to feign a cold shoulder. Thank god, she took the hint and finally fucking left him alone.
Dexter limped on through his day like that, all too thrilled to return home at the end of the day, though as he found himself in the parking lot that evening, pulling into Miami traffic, he was all too well aware of the maroon taurus in his rear view mirror, following him like a shadow into the fading light of the city.
For this reason, dear Dexter did not immediatly go home, but rather to the grocery store first, picking up a few nessesities. They had to eat, after all, and he had ever intention of cooking for his brother that evening. He actually wasn't so bad at cooking, really. Even as he pulled from the grocery store toward home, he could feel Doakes there; even as dear Dexter parked behind the apartment building, sliding from the car with an odd silencing in his step, shutting the door behind him.
Too quiet. It was entirely too quiet, with the moonlight blocked out by clouds hanging heavy and pregnant over-head, a storm rumbling in the distant Flordia skies. A cold breeze rolled acrost the palm-trees and now choppy ocean water over the bay, rustling his red-tinted brown hair from his eyes that scanned the darkness for some sign of life. He was being hunted. Dexter knew the feeling of the hunt well, but not usually from the perspective of the prey.
The only thing he could think, was that this was the end. Doakes had a way of looking right through him, though he'd always offered resistance. Dexter knew that this was the end.
The younger of the lethal brothers let his fingers water into his pocket slowly, dragging out his cell phone. The light shone faintly on Dexter's face as he dialed his own home number. He could only hope that Brian would hear it, though he barely even hit the send button before he felt a sudden force shove him hard against the side of his own sedan.
Doakes; with all of that military training, did hit like a train with a lethal unnerving silence to his approach that had Dexter's head spinning. His cell phone clattered to the ground, and a struggle was heard as Dexter tried to throw himself against him, feeling cold metal come into contact with one of his wrists.
"I hope you have a warrant, Doakes. I've been holding off that you're stalking me for some time now. This is assault! ", Dexter snarled, his free hand flailing an an elbow hard into the black man's ribs, satisfied that the man made a hiss of pain in his ear.
"When I search that place of yours and what skeleton you have hidden, they'll excuse me not having a warrant. I'll get suspended over exposing what you are!", Doakes growled right back with a resilience in his voice that was moving. The man knew without a doubt what exactly dearly damaged Dexter was. The undead among the living, of course. Without emotion, and newly found without much remorse.
Dexter felt his vision tinting around the edges when suddenly the powerful curl of the man's biscep curled around his windpipe from behind, his own arms coming up to try to pry the pressure away from his head that now felt all too crushing, his feet kicking the side of his car to try to gain some leverage.
"B--Bin-- " , Dexter gasped, fingers flailing to grip his own rear-view mirror, trying to drag himself from the jaws of the beast that now clamped it's grip down for the kill; and he found himself completely over-powered in Doake's hold.
Where the feral creature that crept in shadows was now firmly in the talon grip of the patriotic eagle, there existed something even higher on the food chain. The last words that Doakes might have heard cutting through the crisp night air might have seemed completely on tangent, but they were a loving reaffirmation that Dexter was not alone in this world.
"I'm here."
The serpent coiled around the next of the eagle; metal wire binding tight around ebony skin. It was the closest thing to Brian at the time, and utilizing such was a clever homage to his younger brother's work. Now he could pay his respects to Dexter while also eliminating another threat in the process. In Brian's grasp was the horrid creature that pined for Moser blood. Ensnared in the steel spider web was a fly who just had to drink of the divine nectar of the Gods. Had it not come so close to the divine dwelling in its quest for great satiation, it might have been spared. Brian almost felt pity, he and this troubled case must have shared much in common.
There in exactly lied the problem, Brian did not want to share. Just as he had ached for release before and received it, the Ice Truck Killer poured his entire being into crossing the ends of the wire tight around Doakes' neck. He hoped not to damage the body too much, the muscular form of the man would prove to be a beautiful canvas to work his art on in expressive revenge for tampering with the life of his brother.
Somewhere in the midst of it, Dexter had nearly lost conciousness; stumbling forward when he felt the grip of the eagle loosen around his throat. He caught himself of course, but only barely when he spun around with his back flat to the car to catch the sight of Doakes grasping at his neck to try to pry away the wire that now cut off his air.
Brian to save the day. Something about it made something deep in him tingle. Dear Dexter's big brother had saved him, and was protecting him. It made some part of him feel oddly secure.
The younger of the two Moser's would ball his fist, nailing Doakes cheaply in the solar plexus to effectively knock the remaining breath from him, spinning the man the rest of the way out of conciousness, to go limp in his elder brother's arms.
Those dark green eyes would desperatly seek his brother's in the dark, lightning cracking acrost the sky in lue of the oncoming storm sweeping in from the bay. Harry would have been ashamed. Ashamed. And Dexter, now only in the passenger seat of his darker self, found himself unable to give a damn about it.
". . . that was close. ", Dexter whispered. "Put him in the trunk".