(Untitled)

[dreaming_dex]

Who: Dexter Morgan, Brian Moser, Jezebel Desraeli
When: Port! You know that hour they have before they're supposed to come back...yup.
Where: A little outside the compound

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[twodaysinblood]

Brian watched the doctor stroke the creature’s back, a little shiver running down his spine. This guy was weird. The thing’s tail moved, and Brian felt sick. “You have to get it off him,” he murmured, barely aware he was speaking; the sight of Dexter with the stick-thin fingers curled tight around his head was getting too much. His brother couldn’t die, it couldn’t happen, not when they’d only just been reunited. They hadn’t even killed someone together yet…

The space in the back of the truck was cramped, but Brian sunk down onto his haunches in a corner, watching Dr. Desraeli examine the parasite, watching to make sure Dexter was still breathing. Trusting? Brian thought as the English man spoke. “What is it…trusting him with?” he asked quietly, looking sharply at the doctor from under lowered eyebrows.

Brian looked at the light glinting off the blade, and somewhere in the back of his mind, the hunger stirred; a tiny hint of a sneer twisted one side of his mouth. This whole thing had derailed their work and Brian fleetingly thought of Crane, still free, still alive. He nearly growled, only half listening to what the doctor was saying, eyes fixed on the sharp blade. A few words penetrated, “Tranquilisers?” Brian was torn between denying it to avoid suspicion and questions, but Dexter was more important. “Let me…check.” He got the black bag Dexter had been carrying from where it had fallen by the vehicle and brought it back to Desraeli’s truck. He made a show of fumbling through it. “Yes, there are some here.”

[argentum_mortis]

Jezebel looked up in surprise. "Really?" Idly he stroked the clicking little creature as if it were some kind of pet. "My goodness... what on earth were you boys doing all the way out here with such interesting toys?" he asked with a Cheshire cat smile. Jezebel then reached across the cramped space, holding his hand open, waiting to be handed the tranquillizers. He took them, prepared them, making sure all the bubbles were out of the syringe and the needle was ready.

Then, as if right on cue, the creature began to uncoil it's long spidery legs. It crawled off of Dexter, managing to get only a few small steps away before it curled up and died, right at 'the good doctor's' side. Jezebel smiled, giving it's smiley belly an affectionate stroke, before his attention suddenly shifted focus; Dexter's eyes fluttered.

"Ah-ah-ah," He said, slipping the needle into Dexter's neck with expert poise and precision. Once again, Dexter was out like a light. Jezebel only smirked, aware he had not yet answered Brian's question. He sat back, pulling a small bottle of rubbing alcohol from his own bag, and beginning to clean his scalpel.

"You shall see," he said in a cryptic voice, that crooked grin still lingering on his lips. "Now... undress him from the waist up, if you please."

[twodaysinblood]

Brian was trying to think of what to say to the doctor’s question when the creature moved, its legs uncurling. He stood quickly, moving quickly to Dexter’s side. The slimy creature curled itself up like a dead spider and Brian looked at Jezebel, as the doctor reached out to touch it. “Is it dead?” he asked, but forgot his question immediately as Dexter’s eyes began to open. He put a hand on Dexter’s shoulder just as the needle slipped into his brother’s neck.

Brian looked angrily at Jezebel - Dexter had been waking up, the creature was off, why did he need to be knocked out? - but he saw the scalpel again and bit his tongue. Obviously the doctor thought it would be necessary to operate. Something inside him? Brian thought vaguely, as light flashed on the blade once more.

He shook his head slightly to clear it, and nodded at the doctor’s instruction. Brian remembered the sound of Dexter’s head hitting the rock and with deft fingers - he had worked as a doctor after all, it was just alien creatures that were entirely beyond his realm of experience - he felt the back of his brother’s skull for fracture. “He hit the ground pretty hard,” Brian said by way of explanation to Jezebel, satisfied that there were no obvious breaks, probably just bruising and a concussion. Then, awkwardly, he pulled Dexter’s armor and coat off, and his shirt, exposing his skin to the cool air. There was a red mark around his neck. Brian moved back and nodded to Jezebel, placing Dexter’s shoulder light so that it shined on the makeshift workspace.

[argentum_mortis]

"She's dead, yes... she's finished," Jezebel responded. What an interesting pair these two were-- Jezebel was no stranger to the emotions that drove and twisted humans (he was as subject to them as any) and he could read the emotions that flickered across Brian's face with perfect clarity. There was worry, and fierce protectiveness... did they know each other? And for that matter... what were they doing all the way out here when no one was even allowed to leave?

"Then after this, you'll have to keep him awake; let him sleep for no more then two hours at a time, and do not allow him any hot or cold foods or fluids; he's already had a concussion this week, so some extra caution is called for..." Jezebel placed a single gloved finger at the base of Dexter's throat and traced down along the skin, where he planned to cut. He did a few quick preparation chores; laid out the tools he thought he could need on a cloth beside him, changed his gloves, and strapped on a surgical mask.

He seemed to be restraining a maniac smile. There was no time to be slow, to pretend he didn't enjoy it; Jezebel brought the scalpel down and sliced. Clearly he as an expert, a madman, or both; there was no hesitation in his movement and the cut was deep, parting much more then superficial skin. Jezebel knew he'd have to work fast; if Dexter was left open too long, he could bleed to death.

But there was one little detail causing him to wish to take his time... Dexter's eyes were beginning to flutter the slightest bit.

"About your question, Brian... somewhere inside, this lovely warm mess... I believe we're looking for this creatures precious child."

[twodaysinblood]

Brian knew he was raising suspicion, he could read it in the doctor’s face. He clenched his hands into fists. This planet, Jesus, first it messed with their plans and now Desraeli was getting a good look at the brothers when Brian was in no condition to control himself. Brian nodded at the doctor’s directions, although he knew what to do with someone who was concussed. He chewed the inside of his cheek, watching Jezebel trace a line down the middle of Dexter’s chest.

As the scalpel bit into Dexter’s flesh, Brian frowned, hissing in sympathy - this could end up badly. He hoped Jezebel was as good as his confidence suggested. As the blood began to flow, slower than it might have due to the cold air, Brian bit his lip and found a handful of gauze, intending to staunch the liquid; the blood seeped fast into the threads of the material, soaking up far enough that his skin was touching it. He bit his lip hard. Blood. There was so much of it. It was warm, and the air filled with its iron tang.

As the doctor spoke, Brian saw the inside of Dexter’s chest steaming in the cold. Blood on his hands. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, wooden and disbelieving. “Child?”

[argentum_mortis]

Jezebel's eyes flickered between Brian, and Dexter. There was something tense about the conscious one, but not in the way the doctor would expect... Jezebel pushed the thoughts away; his concentration had to be elsewhere at the moment.

He couldn't help but smirk at Brian's question; his shaken tone of voice. "Yes, child. It's a common trait in parasitic creatures to implant young in other living creatures..." Jezebel carefully widened and deepened the wound, little by little, blood creeping up the slick white of his latex gloves. He was shivering slightly; the air was so cold, but the blood, the body was so warm. A vicious need flashed across Jezebel's eyes, the need for more.

Suddenly, something shiny and black emerged between the wet steaming flesh. "Here we go..." Jezebel whispered, reaching down and stroking it with the pad of his finger. The little creature promptly lifted its head, and sank its teeth into the flesh of Jezebel's palm. He hissed in obvious, terrible pain. But he managed to hold still for a moment or two.

His eyes were bright with eerie delight.

"Come here little darling..." he murmured, pulling the creature up as it remained clamped and chewing onto his hand.

Dexter's eyes fluttered, threatening to open. His head turned to the side, his breath quickening before he let out a soft, pained groan.

[twodaysinblood]

Parasite, of course, it made sense. It was just so hard to think when the smell of blood was making him dizzy with the familiar hunger. “I…” he didn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t even remember what he was going to say, as Jezebel cut deeper, opening the gash, letting out more blood. The gauze was soaked through, almost past absorption; there was a lot of blood on his hands. His fingers were covered with it, the sharp smell of blood in his nostrils, the taste of blood in his mouth. Brian’s fingers itched for a blade, Dexter’s body not seeming like his brother’s body, but just a body, nameless, faceless, a toy. He wrenched his eyes away from the raw, red flesh and glanced at the doctor; a matching bloodlust on his face shocked Brian, allowing him to think more clearly. He remembered speaking to Jezebel before, the man liked to experiment.

As he was about to speak, say something at least, the small creature immerged, clamping down hard and fast on the doctor’s hand. Brian saw his face light up with pain, but also with a fierce joy; Brian moved forward to help, then thought better of it. If it kept its hold on Jezebel’s hand, he could draw it out of Dexter’s chest. If Brian interfered, it might not be so easy. “Keep going,” Brian muttered, in a low voice. “Get it out.” Dexter’s groan pulled all Brian’s attention back to him. Brian swallowed as he saw Dexter’s eyelids waver, opening, “He’s waking up, Desraeli…” Brian said, repeating, “Get it out!”

[argentum_mortis]

Jezebel's attention was divided only between Dexter, and the little creature clamped onto his hand, otherwise he would have been able to read the bloodlust on Brian's face plain as day.

"I know, I know," he muttered, pulling up his hand up slowly, hissing from the pain of pull on his wound. Blood soaked into the white of his sleeve, glowing bright vibrant red. "Come on, little one..." he murmured, until finally the creature was out.

Jezebel moved quick. He snatched another knife from his bag --bigger, more dangerous-- and stabbed it right through the creature's middle. It released an awful shriek, clamping down hard on Jezebel's hand. It writhed for only moments, but even as it lay still, it's body hissed as the blood seeped onto the metal floor. The liquid ate holes in the metal.

Jezebel's eyes narrowed in pain as he attempted to pull his hand out of the creature's mouth, flesh ripping, blood leaking from the stretching wound.

"There..." he flexed his wounded hand; that would need wrapping, and he couldn't continue before it was fixed... but Dexter needed to be closed up, and now.

"I've got to wrap this hand," Jezebel said, already pawing thorough his bag, "but your friend doesn't have a lot of time... I don't suppose you'd like to take a stab at stitching him up, would you?"

Suddenly, Dexter's eyes snapped open. He seemed paralyzed in agony, his glazed eyes finding Brian's and locking there. He took fast painful breaths, panic lighting his eyes.

"W-what's?--" he couldn't speak; he was gulping air and trying to shriek, but didn't seem to have the strength.

[twodaysinblood]

Acid as blood? Brian thought about the holes in the floor for barely more than a moment, more worried about Dexter than anything. Jezebel’s hand was bloody; the man was wincing in pain. Brian realised he probably wouldn’t be able to do anything more until he bandaged his hand. He was moving to help him when the Englishman made his suggestion, though phrased as a question, in a tone which said clearly that they needed to finish this operation. Quickly. Brian gave the doctor an agonised look, baring his teeth, then nodded and turned back to Dexter.

…just in time to see Dexter’s eyes open, sudden and sharp. Dexter’s eyes met his and Brian groaned, “No, no, no, no, no…” his voice falling to a whisper. He moved quickly, despite the sight of Dexter’s panicked breathing, seen through an open chest, and picked up the sutures. Brian slid a hand over Dexter’s, squeezing it. “Calm down, please, please stay calm…” he murmured in what he hoped was a steady tone. The smell of blood was overwhelming; Dexter’s chest heaving, shaking. Never so much blood, not while the victim was still alive. He really didn’t want to have to be the one to do this.

He pulled his hand away from Dexter’s. “I need to close the wound, Dex…” Brian was talking more to reassure himself, keep his mind on track, than for Dexter. He didn’t think Dexter would be capable of recognising words just now. “Stay still…stay still, please…”

He started carefully, teeth clenched in a grimace, as if he felt Dexter’s pain himself; setting one stitch, then another, carefully, through the blood. Dexter’s skin rippled under his fingers, convulsing and Brian wasn’t sure he’d be able to do this properly without some sort of restraint. Straps holding him down to a steel table. Brian shook his head, sweat on his brow despite the cold air. This wasn’t then, this was now and if Brian didn’t close Dexter’s chest, he’d die.

He was half-way up Dexter’s chest now, and the stitches were harder to set, Dexter thrashing violently as the tranquilisers wore off, the sutures slippery with blood, tears in Brian’s eyes. He bit his lip hard enough that there was a hint of his own blood on his tongue. “Help me,” he said to Jezebel, keeping his voice even, hoping the tone was enough to reassure Dexter. His voice was much calmer than he felt, his pulse beating hard in his throat. “Take over, or hold him, please…”

[argentum_mortis]

That bloodlust lurking behind Jezebel eyes flared suddenly as he watched Dexter's eyes open. Live prey seemed no be something the doctor greatly appreciated. For a moment or two he only watched, drinking in the terrified, agonized expression with eerie appreciation. Then Jezebel got to work; he peeled off the mangled latex glove, wincing at the sight of his hand. It took more then a few minutes for him to clean the wound and wrap it up; oddly though, Jezebel seemed to be taking his sweet time.

"You're doing such a lovely job," Jezebel said, carefully flexing his fingers. A frown touched his face; movement in the injured hand was stiff, and painful. That was unacceptable; a surgeon needs steady, dexterous hands. Besides... watching Brian struggle with such a task was intriguing. Clearly Brian had some strong feelings for Dexter; someone who delighted in the kind of things Jezebel knew Brian did would not become so upset from a simple split chest cavity.

So, after his hand was wrapped, Jezebel moved carefully around the small cramped space, settling just above Dexter. He leaned forward sharply, pinning the man's shoulders to the ground, effectively stopping his struggle. "Funny," he said with a plainly devilish smile, "I pegged you as the sort of person who would enjoy this kind of thing..." it was perhaps the akward angel, or the fact that Jezebel was dealing with the pain of using an extremely battered hand, but his nails were biting awfully hard into Dexter's shoulders.

Meanwhile, Dexter was seemingly delirious with pain, murmuring incoherently between his breathy failed attempts at screams. His eyes were open, locked unblinking on Brian, wide and glazed with agony. When he couldn't move anymore he lay still panting, hissing, attempting to break Jezebel's grip. All the while he didn't look away for a moment, eyes on Brian's, wide, terrified, agonized.

Jezebel pinned Dexter for a moment with his arm, giving him one free hand to check his pulse.

"... We're going to have to get him back to the medical facility, and fast," he said, breathless, as he reached up to remove the surgical mask. That chilling grin was still there. "He's lost so much blood..." and indeed there was a fair sized puddle around Dexter's shaking, bare chest.

[twodaysinblood]

Brian took another quivering breath, the shaking spreading to his hands. He looked from up from Dexter to Jezebel, whose fingers were digging into Dexter’s skin. Brian resisted the urge to tell him to get off, ease up, to just hold him down and not injure him any more than he already was. He bit his bottom lip instead and swallowed hard. The needle was slippery with blood. Brian wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of red. With a shaky exhale, he went back to stitching, wiping blood from Dexter’s skin with a trembling hand.

“I-“ Brian tried to think of some excuse, the bloody mess again making it hard to think. Christ, why hadn’t they brought any more tranquilisers? He looked back down at Dexter, focusing on the stitching instead of looking at the Englishman. “I’m better at taking people apart than patching them up.” His voice was wavering too much for it to sound like the real reason.

The noises Dexter was making were gruesome, familiar and excruciating. Brian winced as he set the last few stitches, breathing a sigh of relief as he straightened up; he dropped the needle like it was red-hot. He tilted his head back, closed his eyes. “Dress the wound,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes shut so as not to see the blood, the seeping red pool of blood that was now taking up all room in his thoughts, now that Dexter’s chest was closed. “And then let’s go.”

[argentum_mortis]

"That's funny," Jezebel said quietly, eyes bright with plain sadistic glee, "I'm quite the same..." He sat back as Brian finished, taking his hands from Dexter. He thought for a moment, and then shuffled out of the small space, dropping his leather medical bag in Brian's lap on the way by. Inside were bandages, needles, a scalpel, metal clamps, and all sorts of fun toys that could be used horribly in the wrong hands. There was rubbing alcohol though, bandages and other things that could be used to heal.

"You dress the wound, my hand is horribly unsteady at the moment," Jezebel flipped up the section of metal that could close off the end of truck. He smiled lightly at Brian, the expression not unlike that of a clever, hungry fox. "I'll drive while you do... it's best we're quick."

It was so strange to see someone he knew as a predator so... distraught at the sign of blood. Jezebel made a note to pursue his interest in the pair later, after they had made it to the medical bay. Dexter had lost a lot of blood --clearly a dangerous amount-- but Jezebel knew with a detached sort of logic that he would be fine... he would come close, but he would be fine... as long as they hurried.

Moments later he was in the driver's seat, and they were whipping down the rocky terrain at near break-neck speed.

[dreaming_dex]

Dexter seemed to be on the edges of consciousness, the pain threatening to make him back out. That was dangerous, with the concussion on-top of his more severe industry. With clumsy hands he reached up and gently touched the stitches that held him closed, feeling only different shades and intensities of pain crawl across his bare chest. His teeth were chattering, a dangerous cold settling into him. He had lost to much blood to keep warm, and he was white as a sheet.

He squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to roll onto his side and curl up to salvage some warmth, but he could hardly move. Dexter reached blindly into the dark, fingers fumbling along the wet metal floor until they fell across something warm-- Brian's hand. Dexter curled his fingers around, but his grip was dreadfully weak.

"By'ni...." he managed in a weak, trembling voice, "C... cold..." Just. Like. Then.

[twodaysinblood]

The medical bag hit Brian hard. He looked back at the doctor as he moved out of the back of the truck and towards to front, a snarling anger in his eyes. Brian really didn’t like Desraeli at this moment. But Dexter needed him to help him, now was not the time to pursue his emotions, his urge to hurt, to kill… Brian shook his head hard, and pawed through the bag for everything he’d need.

He saw Dexter touch his stitches and Brian felt his pain as an almost physical stab in his own chest. Dexter tried to move, curling up a little, the pain on his face huge. Brian winced, and then Dexter’s fingers touched his. They were back in the shipping crate, back in the pool of their mother’s blood; Dexter’s hand in his, the dark and the blood and the agony. Brian gasped, his hold tightening on Dexter’s fingers. The blood was slippery and beginning to dry.

Only the sound of Dexter’s chattering teeth pulled him out of his thoughts, the nightmare of their childhood, the dark place the dark things were born. Brian shook his head a little and whispered, “Dex, it’s okay… I need to bandage your chest, just- it’ll be okay.“ He pulled his hand from Dexter’s and began to clean the wound with the rubbing alcohol, using the gauze and bandages quickly, realising the need for haste; Dexter was too cold now. Finishing the dressing, Brian pulled Dexter’s coat from a corner and tucked it over him. Silently, he held Dexter’s hand again as the truck bounced back towards the medical bay.