(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]

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.