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Patterns of Behavior	By : darkangel985 Category: 1 through F > Dexter Views: 4368 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own the show Dexter or it's characters. I neither intend any copyright infringement, nor do I make money by writing this.

Chapter List
- 1-Patterns of Behavior
- 1
Title: Patterns of Behavior

Author: darkangel985

Pairing: Brian/Dexter

Disclaimer: I don't own the show Dexter or it's characters. I neither intend any copyright infringement, nor do I make money by writing this.

A/N: Well, it's been
forever since I last wrote anything, but rereading the Dexter Books
and consecutively re-watching season 1 of the show finally brought
back my very elusive muses. So I'm just gonna enjoy the trip to my
favorite serial killers head and I hope you'll join me for the ride.
The story is set shortly after the season finale, that went a bit
differently here. The dialogue in the second part of this chapter is
taken directly from the show and thus is not mine. Since my writing
skills are a bit rusty I live for constructive feedback and all kinds
of comments. I could also do with a beta reader if anyone is willing
to take on the job, since English is not my mother tongue and some
grammar or spelling errors always kinda slip by me.

Welcome to Serial killer
Central. Enjoy your stay. ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter
1 – A fine day for murder

It is
another beautiful day in Miami as I get out of my car and walk
towards the yellow evidence tape. Still pretty early in the morning,
but the air is already heating up, preparing to reach her boiling
point short after noon. But now it is still pleasant, even though the
sun is a hot and merciless glare in my eyes and I hide from it behind
dark-tinted glasses. I like glasses like these, dark enough to hide
my eyes completely. No one can see the void behind those tinted
shades. All oblivious to the happily hollow shell that is right
before their eyes, posing as average boring blood splatter expert
Dexter Morgan.

Looking at
the grim faces all around me I can feel a laugh bubbling inside me.
Not a happy laugh. It's the dark passenger sitting behind the bars of
his Harry-made cage and cackling away with glee. I know what awaits
me, know from the crazy thumping of my dead reptile heart that this
is not an ordinary 'Sorry, I killed somebody and left loads of
evidence' kind of crime scene. No. This is special. I don't know why
it excites the passenger so, but I have a vague feeling. Or maybe
it's just a hope, a dream, a desire. Which in itself is kind of
strange. Deeply dead Dexter doesn't feel emotions like hope and
desire. Or at least I used to not feel them.

He has
awoken something inside me. Something that was buried under liters of
blood and locked in the tight set of rules that Harry made for me.
The scent of freedom has caught in my nostrils and I can still smell
it, can feel it trying to lure me away from the save path my foster
father set up for me. Harry's code is faulted now anyway. Faulted by
the knowledge that he wasn't the perfect saint I always believed him
to be. The good guide, who had no darkness. I learned his dark
secrets and a tiny little piece of me hates him for what he did. For
taking in one child and leaving the other behind. If he had known
that Dexter was as damaged as Brian, would he have left us both
behind?

While my
mind has wandered back the dark path to the past I myself have
wandered onto the playground that is now sealed off and being
meticulously combed through by a forensics team. I wonder when
they'll pull out the sieves to check every single grain of sand that
just might be evidence. They won't find anything here. I just know
it. The grim faces of my colleagues suggest as much, even though the
familiar face of my fake sister Deborah is missing. Fake sister.
That's actually funny that I should call her that, when I'm the one
who is faking it all. Hollow shell Dexter putting on a nice show of
concerned interest as he walks towards his work.

Lieutenant
LaGuerta, oh, I'm sorry. I mean, former Lieutenant and I guess this
was very hard to swallow for her, is coming towards me and utters the
two words that I expected to hear ever since I crossed the yellow
line that seals the playground off from the curious eyes of the press
and the people, that are just as interested in bloodshed as common
vultures would be: „It's him.“

Those words
bring me back to the present and I finally manage to drag me out of
my meditative dream state and into the here and now. LaGuerta is
cursing under her breath, Spanish words I'm sure I don't want to know
the meaning of. How rude. She's insulting my flesh and blood after
all.

I walk
towards the swings where most of the forensic guys, including Angel
and Masuoka of course, are gathered. I should really feel guilty. I'm
not yet close enough to see the neat, bloodless, perfect, beautiful
clumps of dead flesh, but I'm sure that another hooker has fallen
prey to Brian. Monsters are creatures of habit after all. I have my
ritual and so does my dear brother mine. Only his ritual involves a
violation of Harry's code and that should really make me angry, but
to be honest, the only thing I feel is excitement. Now I know what I
was missing during the days since I visited my childhood home and was
reunited with my brother. I missed the puzzles, the sense of
connection, the knowledge that someone was there, who was just like
me. I had felt alone. Imagine that. Sociopath Dexter longing for
simple contact. Too bad that only someone who completely understood
me could fulfill this need. And the only one capable of it, wasn't
quite available.

I honestly
hadn't expected him to kill again, at least not in Miami. I had
expected that he would have gotten out of state by now. I had half
hoped that he would and half hoped that he would not, still not
completely sure why I had allowed him to live that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's cold.
The metal door that is the only thing between me and my brother is
cold against my back, while I sit there, not quite ready to get up
and do, what I was so determined to do. It has to be done. It is
right, it is just, it adheres to Harry's code and yet it is wrong on
so many levels that I can't even begin to understand them all. The
dark passenger is rattling in his cage. Raving, trying to desperately
take over the front seat, but not today. Today I can't allow him to
or I won't be able to do, what I have to do. Usually the darkness
inside me is pushing me forward, craving the thrill and excitement of
the kill and the blood flowing, but not this night. The passenger is
mourning, trying to keep me from taking away the only companion he
has, his dark counterpart.

A sigh flees
from my lips as my fingers trail over the wooden box sitting on my
knees. It contains Brian's cutlery, not perfect, but it would have to
do. My fingers trail over the smooth wood, smooth and perfect, so
different compared to what my insides look like at the moment.
Emotionally empty Dexter, all torn up over his brother's imminent
demise. I wish it was easier. Why did he have to come back and try to
go for Deb again.

Well,
actually I know why he had, but I still kept asking me this question
again and again. If only he had let my sister alone. We could have
been wonderful together. Only if Brian would have learned to accept
Harry's code of course, even though the voice of the passenger was
telling me that it wasn't him, who needed to learn the rules, it was
me who needed to let go of them. And I wanted to. Right now, I really
wanted to. But I couldn't. Dark avenger Dexter couldn't stop cleaning
the streets of Miami and just enjoy the art of perfectly cut, dry and
beautiful dead flesh.

It is time.
I had already stalled far too long. The tranquilizer was strong, but
it wouldn't last forever. That thought finally spins me into action.
I can't quite follow my usual routine to the last, waiting for my
victim to wake up, because I'm not sure if I would be able to take
it. If dark deadly Dexter would be able to compete against little
loving brother Dexter.

When I enter
the room Brian's eyes are open and his head turns into my direction,
as far as the tape, that's stuck to his forehead will allow. Damn it.
That is exactly what I wanted to avoid. The dark passenger is getting
louder in his cage, but I try to shut him out, try to cover his cage
with a thick dark cloth. “Hey.” My voice is thick and
catchy, belying the emotions I shouldn't be able to feel. “You
weren't supposed to wake up.” My brother seems so unconcerned
as he answers me, as if the possibility, no, the certainty of his
death doesn't bother him at all. “I guess not.”

“Sorry.”
I have no idea, where that word suddenly came from, but it still
slipped over my lips. Whatever it means, now is not the time to get
lost in analysis of meaning and my deeper inner being. I need to get
this over with and get back to being myself. Normal Dexter by day and
a justified killer by night. I try to busy myself with what is
important now, trying to not look too much at my brother. This is so
different from everything I have experienced before and I don't quite
know how to handle it. A small part of myself wishes that Harry were
here to guide me.

“Police
recorded all your knifes as evidence. Took a while to find your
dinner flatware.” Actually they were quite easy to find. I
wonder if Brian can see through my lie. I'm almost sure that he can,
but he doesn't call me on it and that I am grateful for. “Sterling.”
Yes, they are. Silver. Like the coins that Judas got for betraying
Jesus and that's what I'm feeling like at the moment, like I'm
betraying my family.

I put the
tub that my brother used to catch all the hooker's blood under him
and push down the feeling that he would deserve a new one, that
hasn't been sullied before. For a reason I don't want to question
further I don't want his blood mixing with microscopic remains of the
whores' blood that might still be in the tub. In the end it all comes
down to this. Blood. We were born in it, we are connected through it
and blood is what will sever this connection.

“Thank
you for the special occasion.” “But you are.” It's
the simple truth. According to Harry's code he is just like my usual
victims. A ruthless killer. But not to me. I can't help but doubt my
ability to really go through with this and that is not like me. I
never hesitate, never show mercy. “I can give you more
tranquilizer if you want.” The offer was more for my sake than
his, I think. “It's a service I don't usually offer.”
Brian's smile catches me off guard. It is amused, but with a tang of
regret underneath. I want it to go away, because it stirs memories.
Memories of the past, where we laughed and smiled together. Before
the darkness, before the passenger, before blood and death, just two
happy children. So long ago. There's not much left of those children
now. Just two dark wanderers dancing to the tune of death.

“What,
am I one of your victims now? You'll even collect a little sample of
Biney's blood for your slide collection?” “No, you're not
a trophy.” Because that was what my victims are. Hunting
trophies. If it was possible my dark passenger would probably mount
their heads on the wall. Oh, look there, over Dexter's couch, isn't
that the vicious murderer they let out of prison last week? But not
Brian. The passenger doesn't want my brother dead. And that is the
problem, isn't it. “But you need to be put down.”

“Because
of your code?” The question sounds almost innocent, but I know
that it is not. Brian knows just as much about scheming and
manipulation as I do, but I will not fall for it. I will not get into
this discussion with him, even though I would really like to. I want
him to understand the code, the importance of it. Understand and
accept it, so he can become my companion for real. But instead of
explaining my reasons I open the box of cutlery and use the one
reason, that really isn't a valid one. “The safety of my
sister.”

“She's
not your real sister.” I pick one of the blades up. It isn't as
heavy or as handy as I would like it to be, but it will have to do. I
can't stall this any longer. “She's a stranger to you and
she'll always be one.” That hit home. Brian knows me too well.
He knows that he is the only one who has the capability to understand
me and he knows that I know this too. It's a dirty card to play, but
wouldn't I do the same in his situation? When the passenger is taking
over, the brain shutting down all intelligent thoughts and switching
to survival instincts. The only problem with that is that my brother
doesn't seem fazed in the slightest. “I tried to help you by
killing her.”

“I
KNOW THAT.” Suddenly there is anger. Does Brian really think I
want to do this? I'd rather there was another solution. The tear that
rolls down from his eye startles me. It hurts to see him like this. A
pain I haven't felt since...since Mom. “You should know this
isn't easy for me.” I move downwards, putting my forehead on
his and there is this strange burning sensation behind my eyes, that
I can't place. Are that tears threatening to spill? I don't know. I
can't remember what it feels like to cry. I've never had enough
emotions to cry for anyone. Not even Harry.

But my
brother is different. “You're the only one I ever wanted to set
free.”

“ You're
the one that needs setting free, little brother. Your life is a lie.”
The blade is at his throat. I can't hear this anymore. Not because it
isn't true, but because it is true. Brian is calling my charade,
calling to my deep, dark wishes. The tip of the blade scratches his
skin. I hesitate. “You'll never be what you pretend....”
His voice dies.

It should
have been from the cut to his throat, but I couldn't do it. The
passenger had won. The tears that had threatened to spill finally run
down my cheeks as I look at my brother. I gave him another shot of
the sedative. I always carry two syringes in case something went
wrong, just like Harry taught me to. ' Always be prepared for
everything.' And something went wrong tonight. I can't choose. I
don't want to abandon the fake family that Deborah reminds me of, but
I can't let go of my real family either, now that I have been
reminded that it exists. Terribly torn Dexter. I need to get away
from here. My only hope as I cut the tape that's holding Brian's
still form down is that he finally understands what Deb means to me
and leaves her alone. Otherwise I will have to try to struggle
against my dark passenger again. And who knows. Maybe I would win the
next time.

The bang of
the closing metal door is terribly loud in my ears as I leave the
place, where I have truly broken Harry's code for the first time,
behind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~+~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey,
creep. We have a murder investigation going on here. Wanna contribute
or will you just stare into space?” Damn it. I can't get this
lost in the past, when Doakes is around. He's like a bloodhound that
has caught a scent. I will need to watch myself more in the future.
But for now I need to pay attention to what I am here for. The
present my brother has left for me. Masuoka's “That's such sick
shit, man.” barely penetrates the ringing in my ears as I look
at the work of art before me.

Two
eyeballs, spotless, bloodless, frozen in a giant block of melting,
see-through ice. Beautiful.

TBC...
- 1
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Patterns of Behavior