Facade

Façade


Part One: Alone and Lonely

He looked away as the elevator door closed behind Ben's green jacket and yet another life line was cut off, if only temporarily. Pursing his lips, Dexter swallowed and winced at the pain the reflex caused. An intense, almost physical sense of loss filled him even though Ben had yet to leave DexLabs property. Without the immediate presence of the older teen – a luxury that Dexter had enjoyed and appreciated for days as he slowly recovered – the world seemed an even lonelier, more menacing place.

A sigh escaped him and he felt his shoulders slump as he lowered his head. He would have liked to walk Ben all the way to the hangar where the KND aircraft – Dexter could not bring himself to call that contraption an airplane – waited to transport them to Banff, Canada. He knew full well he didn't have the strength to make it that far. Already his head was spinning and his legs were trembling with the effort of standing for so long, and he felt well and truly awful. Awful, at least, was an improvement over destroyed, which summed up his physical state last week.

He dreaded returning to the medical unit. They just wanted him to rest and eat and pestered him endlessly with offers of therapy and people he could talk to. He didn't want to do any of those things. He wanted to work. His laboratory was getting put back in order and he badly wanted to be there to supervise the process. He had to figure out exactly how his Fusion copy had burrowed through the bedrock without being noticed until it was too late. He had to figure out why this particular Fusion was capable of speech and independent reasoning and ambition, and the nature of the Infection he had unleashed north of Pittsburgh. But mostly Dexter had to figure out how he was going to banish the nightmares that were plaguing his sleep and clouding each waking moment.

"You can stop hovering, Dearborn," he abruptly said, well aware he was being guarded.

"Sir?" asked the security sergeant, a little nervous in his role of baby sitter. Usually this was Chip Morton's job, but Chip was off world along with Professor Utonium. He stepped out of the shadows where he had been waiting out of earshot, affording his employer and his employer's best friend some privacy. "Can I escort you back to Medical?"

"No, you may not," he snapped, barely able to raise his voice above a grating whisper. "I'm going to my laboratory."

"Sir, Dr. Cardon and Seventy-Seven gave express orders-"

"Who owns and runs this company, Sergeant?"

"You do, sir. But -"

"I'm going to my laboratory."

"Sir, I don't think tha-"

"You're not my father, Dearborn," Dexter hissed savagely, his temper getting the better of him for a moment as the real issue came out full force. He wanted, needed Professor Utonium desperately, but his father was off world helping the Plumbers and there was no telling when he would return. The petit redhead glared up at the former Marine, well aware that he bore more than physical scars from recent events. "Do not try to tell me what to do."

He knew he was being grossly unfair and he didn't care. The sergeant couldn't really defend himself, but then it was not Dearborn's place to argue with him. He tolerated the authority and back-talk of very few people, and one of them had just departed, leaving him feeling bereft and alone all over again.

The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside before Dearborn could catch up. Closing his eyes, Dexter leaned against the wall, harboring his strength for the walk ahead. He would go down to the laboratory and see how things were progressing. The technicians were working 'round the clock and should have the chemistry lab set up for him. He would start analyzing soil and rock samples to figure out the means of entry into his subterranean kingdom. He needed to know and understand not just how this all happened to him, but why.

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Adrian Dearborn sighed as the elevator doors closed. He had served in the Marine Corps long enough to recognize post traumatic stress when he saw it. He took no offense at Dexter's snappishness – his boss was actually a lot calmer and more soft-spoken than Dearborn had expected him to be, given past conduct – but that did not mean that he could allow the owner of DexCorp International to go wandering about unescorted, especially since it was evident that he was not in any condition to be anywhere but back in bed. Besides, every doctor in the place had issued orders that he was not allowed back in his laboratory for another week at least.

As the one in charge of security in Morton's absence Dearborn had a direct tie-in with Computress, and now that she was mostly back in working order he activated his comm unit.

"Computress, track Dexter. He's heading for his lab. Alert security in the main entrance and have someone meet him at the elevators. I don't care how much he yells." He didn't wait for the elevator to return, but headed for the stairs in pursuit of his boss. It was too bad the Tennyson kid had to leave. He had been the only thing grounding Dexter and keeping the security and medical staffs sane.

Computress' voice was pitched for calmness. "Of course, Sergeant."

"Can you contact his sisters for me?"

"DeeDee or the Powerpuff Girls?"

"The Powerpuffs. They're on site."

On site and hopefully able to talk some sense into their brother the genius. Dearborn lifted his hand and a comm cube appeared before him, keeping track with his long strides as he hurried down the stairs. A few moments later an image of a drowsy Blossom was blinking at him.

"Sergeant?" she asked with a voice heavy with sleep. Her hair was a little disheveled and her bow was askew.

"Sorry to wake you, miss. It's your brother."

She dragged herself toward alertness. "He okay?"

"He just saw Tennyson off and now he wants to go to his lab. He's pretty distraught and I'm afraid even just being up so long is pushing himself too far."

She nodded, well aware of the orders from the doctors and her older brother's present condition and state of mind. He was a stubborn, intractable little thing when he got his Irish up, and Ben's departure was more than enough to plunge him into a workaholic frenzy. It wasn't just a matter of he couldn't stop working, but Dexter didn't know how. He would go until he literally collapsed, and without their father or Mr. Green or Ben here to put the brakes on, it fell to the rest of the family to watch for him since he clearly wouldn't watch out for himself.

"Where is he?"

"Heading for the main entrance."

"I'll meet you there."

"Thank you."

Dearborn picked up speed. Morton was so much better at dealing with Dexter than he was. Chip couldn't get back soon enough.

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This was a mistake and he knew it, but his own mulish nature denied him the luxury of backing down, accepting fate, and returning to Medical. The place held too many memories of waking up to darkness and fear and the thought of being there without Ben close by was daunting.

He rubbed his aching head and let out a little groan even as the elevator slowed down and stopped. Standing up straight, he braced himself, knowing there was a chance he'd run into some Kids Next Door or fighters for Earth's Combined Forces in the main lobby for his corporate headquarters. The proposition did not please him in the least, but this was the fastest route to the primary elevators that would allow him access to his laboratory. Steeling himself against the possibility of being exposed to strangers (never an easy thing for him handle, especially when he was alone), he expected DexLabs Security to be waiting for him. He did not expect his sister.

Blossom was waiting for him right outside the elevator doors. She was so wonderfully smart and pretty and she stood there patiently, ready for a battle. Dexter knew there was no way he could win against her, not in his present state. He stepped out of the elevator and faced her. Dearborn was hanging back at a discreet distance, watching like a hawk and ready to pounce if anyone dared approach as brother and sister hashed it out.

"Dexter, you shouldn't be up," Blossom said softly, closing the distance between them so he could hear her. His hearing was only partially recovered, and she did not want to broadcast their conversation.

With her as his shield he slumped the least bit. Quietly he defended, "I had to see Ben off."

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That Blossom understood entirely. Ben was Dexter's best friend and a very good influence. She had never known Dexter to act more like the teenager he was than around Ben Tennyson, and she knew the older boy was responsible not just for time and again saving Dexter from his Fusion dopplegangers, but for keeping him from giving in to despair as he slowly recovered his strength and spirits. She put her hand on his narrow shoulder. Despite the fact that Dexter was technically five years older than Blossom (though for all intents and purposes he was a mere two months older, seeing as how the Powerpuff Girls had come into the world at five years old), she stood much taller and was maturing at an astounding pace. That stood her in good stead at this moment, as did the sterling example set by her father when dealing with this most difficult and exceptional of geniuses. Once upon a time his brilliance had intimidated her. That was before she realized how fragile he really was beneath the layers of armor he wore and how greatly he needed his protectors, too. It was a role she gladly embraced for this, her brother. They weren't related by blood. They didn't need to be. The bond went so much deeper than that.

"That's good. Has his ship left?"

She caught him a little off guard, which was always advantageous. Dexter hesitated, surprised to have her support, and then nodded.

"Then you need to go get some rest."

Blue eyes cast her a stony look. The whites of his eyes were still mostly red from broken blood vessels, giving him a startling appearance. "I'm not going back to Medical."

"You can't sleep?" she asked softly.

He shook his head, lowering his gaze. Admitting to nightmares was not an easy thing, especially when they were so horrifyingly vivid as to put him back in his Fusion double's clutches. The memory of torture was overwhelming to his waking and sleeping mind, and the faint sounds his damaged ears could pick up in the medical wing of DexLabs were too close to the sounds he'd heard in the abandoned steel mill for him to ever rest quietly without a constant, trusted guardian close at hand.

She took his gloved hand in hers and leaned in so that her lips were right at his ear. "You don't have to go back to Medical, then. Come home," she said. "We'll stay with you. We won't leave you alone. The doctors can come to you." A small smile lit her pretty face. "Einstein misses you. He's looking for you all the time. We miss you too."

There was a pleading look in her pink eyes. She could not begin to tell him how terrified she and her sisters had been, how helpless they had felt when he had been taken right out of this, the home he had made for them all. She and Bubbles had envied Buttercup as much as they had felt for her when Ben asked her along on the rescue mission to get Dexter back. They couldn't all go, that they knew, and Blossom was glad that it had been Buttercup. Of the three Powerpuff Girls, Buttercup had appointed herself Dexter's foremost champion and foil. He had no idea of how completely shaken the toughest of his sisters had been once the rescue team got back from Pennsylvania. The thought of losing one they held so dear was terrifying, and it had taken every bit of self control that they possessed to remain professional in face of this situation. It wasn't until they had been together again that the three girls had broken down, each in her way, over the torture that had been inflicted upon their brother. Though he was home, the threat of losing him still lingered, and the fear, while lessened, remained. Dexter was vulnerable in so many ways, and Blossom desperately wished their father was here. The Professor would know what to do to fix this. He always did.

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"Please?" pleaded Blossom, her eyes bright and eager.

This offer of an honorable surrender was more than Dexter could refuse. At least she let him lose one his own terms. Being back in the family's living quarters was a viable solution and he wondered why he hadn't thought if it himself. His emotions – so close to the surface and out of control - seemed to be tripping him up at every turn. He slowly nodded, his exhaustion making itself known. He put his free hand to his head, a rush of dizziness hitting him.

"Come with me," Blossom said, holding him firmly still. She carefully turned him, guiding him back into the elevator. Dearborn followed and Dexter vaguely heard the security sergeant talking to Computress to keep the elevator shafts clear between here and their quarters.

Dexter leaned heavily (for him) on Blossom, knowing she could support him with ease and knowing she didn't mind. She swapped hands in order to reach around his waist and hold him up in a grip that was at once gentle and firm. She was so much like her father - more so than her sisters and far more than she realized. The thought comforted him greatly.

Later, he could recall very little of the walk to the family's suite. Most of what he remembered centered on Blossom's patience with his slow steps and his determination to make it there under his own power. At one point he lost all equilibrium and stumbled. Powerful arms caught him. She must have carried him. She definitely kept him from falling. He remembered breathing in the scent of the shampoo she used. Smell was the only sense left to him that he could rely on fully. Blossom's hair smelled of honeysuckle.

He must have closed his eyes because the next thing he knew he was being gently lowered and his feet touched the floor of their suite here in DexLabs. He couldn't stand very well, so Blossom kept her hold on his waist. Straightening his glasses as he looked up, he saw his other sisters approaching. They were smiling and happy to see him, giving him a rare and precious sense of belonging. Buttercup was talking to them though he couldn't really hear her, and Bubbles was carrying Einstein. He stroked his cat's head, glad to see his pet again even though he lacked the strength to hold him. He could feel the cat purring through his gloves, though there was little chance of him hearing it. A sense of content, of security enfolded him. Perhaps he could sleep. Perhaps the nightmares would be held at bay now that he was home.