Log; complete

[cold_dry_pieces]

When; April 1
Rating; PG
Characters; Dexter Morgan (dark_passenger), Brian Moser (aka Rudy Cooper, cold_dry_pieces)
Summary; Biney Brian shows up, runs into Dexter, lots of awkward ensues. Adorable serial killers ftw!
Log;

He had woken up; that was a surprise in and of itself, and the first thing he'd done was check his pulse. The skin beneath his fingers was dry, presumably clean of blood; unbound, uninjured, and very much lost. He'd pulled himself into a sitting position as he woke; letting his hands fall, he stood fully to consider his unexpected surroundings.
It didn't take long to determine that he was not in Miami, or any other city he recognized... Which made perfect sense, inasmuch as anything did under the circumstances. He stared for a moment at the empty carousel spinning before him. The surreal scene offered no clues in the pale, early light, so he turned, regarding a small row of buildings. Buildings generally meant people; people, he reasoned, meant answers, of which he was direly in need. Curiously numb- though that was nothing new for him- he put on the pleasantest expression he could muster, and headed confidently towards the shops, in no rush, scanning the faces of the few people out and about in search of someone who looked approachable. Charming some information out of a stranger was probably his only option.

A dozen donuts; 4 chocolate, 4 creme-filled, and 4 frosted with sprinkles. That should have been the perfect way to start off the month, Dexter thought, as he approached the bakery inside the town square. It seemed pretty busy, but it was still early enough for breakfast, probably the bakery's busier time of the day.
He smoothed out a wrinkle on his nice, clean Hawaiian-print shirt. A part of his wardrobe he was particularly fond of, and Dexter had been excited to start wearing them again, given the cold had let up.
Maneuvering around the outdoor tables and chairs where citizens were enjoying their coffees, Dexter flashed a smile to a table of familiar faces before reaching to hold the door open for a customer with an arm full of pastry boxes. Just another polite action that made him seem a little more normal than he truly was.

He stopped in his tracks. No; it must have been a trick of the light, an effect of his disorientation, his mind trying to make sense of the strange surroundings. But... The man moved like he had, a little too smoothly, a little too aware of his surroundings, taking pains to make a good impression, holding the door like a gentleman. And he swore he knew that shirt. Tacky thing.
Brian began to move again, shaken by what he'd seen- thought he'd seen? The thought was enough to agitate him, especially considering (to his mind) how recently they'd parted... and the circumstances thereof. Taking a long breath to calm himself, he walked nonchalantly toward the bakery. He had to know; he wasn't certain what answer he really wanted. If it wasn't Dexter, he could just browse the goods, although he didn't think he had any cash on him... Maybe find someone to ask where the hell he was. And if it was-
He opened the door distractedly, not really looking where he was going. And as such, he ran straight into his little brother, barely managing not to knock Dexter's box of donuts to the ground. Brian stared in a rare moment of shock before regaining composure, grinning brightly. For once it wasn't empty. "Fancy meeting you here," he said cheerily, his relief at finding a familiar face (and the only one that actually mattered to him, no less!) outweighing the anger he might have otherwise experienced.

It was one of those moments that seemed to be played in slow motion, but in reality happened all too fast. Before him was the face of his brother. His blood brother, the man he killed, the man who haunted his dreams and realities on those horrible cursed days within the city. Biney. Dexter had tried to let go, but it was so hard when the city kept bringing him back, in one form or another, even if for only a day.
His heart skipped a beat. Dexter might have even gulped. His fingers seemed to dig into the box of donuts a little more than they should have, as he tried to think of something to say, tried to grasp just once sentence. Why did this keep happening to him?
And every time he opened his mouth...silence.
Finally, "...Biney?" squeezed out from somewhere deep within. A quiet mumbling sound, something childish, questioning, almost frightened. Dexter's eyes shifted around him slightly, looking for a sign that this was another trick.

He smiled, but his eyes darkened briefly with concern. This wasn't going right; he was hardly surprised. It had not gone right the first time, either. He swallowed reflexively and forced himself not to think about the muscles the action employed. He didn't want to be angry at Dexter; least of all now, in public, utterly lost. He laughed softly, not quite knowing what to say.
He wished Dexter didn't sound so nervous; it didn't suit him at all. Brian stepped aside to let someone pass by, glancing around him as he realized they were obstructing traffic. He backed up a few steps, as much to buy time as to get clear of the doorway. "I..." His calm had been shattered. "I'm glad to see you," he managed, hating how trite it sounded. Dexter deserved something significant; not some awful pleasantry. It was the best he could do. "...Where are we?" he added quietly, smile fading somewhat. He disliked not being in control of the situation; having to admit it was even worse.

It had not been the first time seeing his brother in the city, so his reaction was less surprised than it could have been. Still, there he was. Dexter cleared his throat, after moving to the side with his brother to better communicate.
"I thought you--" his voice trailed off, he cleared it again. "It's good to see you, too." Dexter took his time looking at his brother, exactly like he remembered him, but strangely enough, missing the deserved scar that Dexter should have left across Brian's neck.
"You look...well." he continued, too preoccupied with their meeting to answer the question.

"Unexpectedly so," he agreed. Which was entirely the wrong thing to say, because of course he did not want to discuss his recent demise. It had not bothered him to think of it while alone- but Dexter always wrought havoc on his older brother's rare emotions, without intending to, and Brian was torn between the memories of betrayal, and the potential of this meeting. Assuming this was even real.
The obvious (considering his lack of information,) occurred to him. "Dex-- are you..." he hesitated, hating the idea. "..dead?" He'd put no stock in the afterlife; it was a load of sentimental nonsense, balancing the sentimental fear of death. But it was a distinct possibility- and Dexter hadn't answered his question.

Dexter could feel his stomach sink. He was no longer in the mood for the donuts he was out to get in the first place. Dead... Dexter had never thought about it in the context of the city. Many people were so certain that they were alive, the way Dexter felt alive. And for that matter, you don't live in a city like this for over a year and not figure those sorts of things out. But again, in this city, anything could happen.
"I...don't know." he mumbled, looking down at the box in his arms as he said it, and then back up to Brian. "Are you real?"

He frowned at both the admission and the question. "I... think so?" Essentially they were wondering the same things about one another, he suspected. "I feel real enough-- if that helps," he muttered. All this confusion was absolutely wretched. He'd always assumed that once he and Dexter were reunited, everything would be right; everything would be simple and complete. In practice it was quite the opposite. And now, it was complicated by the fact that at least one of them shouldn't be breathing.
"Could we... Is there somewhere less public we could discuss all this?" he asked quietly, not comfortable entering into such sensitive matters out on the street. "After all," he added wryly, "if it turns out I'm not real, you don't want to stand around talking to yourself for too long." A light scowl touched his face, caused as much by his inability to prove his existence as by Dexter's doubt.

Dexter glanced around, noting that there truly were too many people around to be discussing these sorts of things. Dexter didn't really want to be seen with a man who could potentially slip up the same way that he did back in Miami.
"Come on, " he said moving past his brother, and holding open the door. The only place the two of them could safely discuss matters was his apartment. Brian had been there before, even if this reincarnation didn't remember it. If this was just a temporary visit like the rest of them had been, it shouldn't become too problematic.

Brian managed another faint smile, less confident than he would have liked. He let his little brother take the lead, glancing around as they walked, trying to get his bearings. "So... where are we, anyway?" he asked, figuring the question was innocuous enough. He was surprisingly well-traveled, considering how long he'd been confined to one place in his youth, and this was decidedly nowhere he recognized; and Dexter seemed to know where he was going. Clearly his little brother had been here for a while. All in all this was a fortunate meeting; provided, of course, Dexter wasn't planning to betray and murder him again. The possibility nagged at him, but he refused (for the moment) to give it any credence.

The apartment would need some cleaning, though. Dexter would have to hide some more important papers and police work before letting his brother peruse about. Not that he wouldn't find him if he wanted to, but still. His thought process stopped as Brian spoke. Just like any other time Dexter had encountered his brother, he didn't remember a thing. This was a curse, whether it was the city's doing or not.
"They call it the City, I'm not sure if it just doesn't have a proper name, or if that much is just been hidden from us. We seem to be on an island, with no ways off, and no connection to the outside world. How we got here, I can't answer." Dexter spoke as he walked. He would waste no time in chance that someone would see him or stop him to chat on the street. He was coming in close on the 11th apartment building, checking back to make sure that Brian was keeping up.

"Interesting," he mused. Not as much information as he'd have liked, but evidently all there was. He had suspected this was some strange hallucination, synapses firing randomly one last time before he died; but it seemed disconcertingly real. They say that dreams always seem real; he did not, as a rule, dream. It made little difference, from a practical point of view. "Have you been here long?" he asked suddenly, realizing exactly how odd this must be for his little brother- they'd just parted, from his point of view; but who knew how long it had been since Dexter murdered him?

Dexter frowned a bit, opening the door of the building. "Since January of last year." he responded, entering. He headed straight for the elevator, pressing the up button. "Not counting the times I've left and come back, only to find myself exactly where I left off." he continued, tapping his foot until the door opened, when it did, he motioned for Brian to head in before him.

He nodded absently; the time span was still vague to him, but it was enough to know that it had been a while- over a year, at least- since his yesterday. Disconcerting. He headed through the door, glancing thoughtfully at Dexter as he passed him. "You seem... less surprised than I might have expected. Considering..." He trailed off. The human body only remembers intense pain for, what, a matter of minutes? He didn't remember how it had felt to die, physically; but he remembered more than enough.

"I'm shocked enough," he muttered, pushing the button for the 3rd floor. "But not as much as the first time you've shown up here." Dexter frowned. "Sometimes you were real, other times I think it was just my mind...fucking with me. You'd stay for a day...sometimes a week...sometimes as little as a few minutes."
He didn't say any of this looking at his brother. It made him sound more insane than he felt within. He found himself gripping his box of donuts a little too hard again, before the elevator doors opened to interrupt his thoughts.

Brian arched a brow at that, leaning against the wall while the elevator moved. "I think I'm real," he muttered again, not liking the fact that he couldn't say for certain. "Although I guess if I weren't, you'd still hallucinate me thinking I was." A short laugh; Brian's views on sanity were a bit skewed by the fact that he was, according to most authorities, very much on the wrong side of it. Hallucinations, though, were a different kind of crazy. He stepped out of the elevator, glance ranging down the hall.
He felt a sudden, unexpected swell of anger, and tried to deny it; rationally it made sense for Dexter to be wary of his arrival, if he'd been here before. It still stung, though; felt too much like rejection. He wasn't thinking clearly. His brother was inviting him into his home, in spite of his obvious discomfort. Brian tried to appreciate the fact, but found it difficult to think past his frustration. He was, however, an excellent actor, and he masked his discomfort as best he could. "So do you think I'll just... vanish?" he asked curiously, not certain what answer he wanted.

Dexter shrugged. "I'm not sure." he continued in a low voice, heading down the hallway. He reached into his pocket for the key, trying to remember if he say anything strange on the network that morning, he thought that he had, but he wasn't sure how exactly Brian fit into that. He slid the key into the doorknob when they reached Dexter's room, turning it and pushing the door open. He turned back to his brother and smiled before gesturing inside. "Either way, welcome back, Biney."

He smiled back, the bitterness that threatened his calm soothed by Dexter's smile, and the use of his nickname. It recalled that fine moment when recognition finally dawned on his little brother's face, outside their childhood home- so much so that for a moment, he let himself forget what came after. For the moment. He slipped into Dexter's apartment, looking it over; perfectly normal, almost to a fault. About what he'd expect, knowing his little brother as he did, mostly by circumstance. "Home sweet home?" he quipped, wondering if he ought to sit down. He was accustomed- in Miami- to breaking into Dexter's apartment, inviting himself in at best; being a legitimate guest was a little strange.

"You wanted a safer place to talk," Dexter continued, closing the door behind them, "This is it."
He moved to the kitchen and set the box of donuts on the counter. His appetite spoiled, he didn't even open it, but went straight for the fridge. "Can I get you a drink?" he asked, trying to keep the calmest voice he could while a million thoughts raced through his head. With each new appearance Dexter became more and more cautious about how he acted around his brother. At least until he got a good sense of how that particular incarnate would react.
He was upset, of course, seeing his brother always brought back memories and regrets among so many other things, but deep down he knew that he was wishing Brian was there with him all along.

"Sure," he replied, deciding to sit after all. He settled onto Dexter's sofa almost gingerly, trying not to betray his sense of discomfort. He was still trying to make sense of the fact that, evidently, he'd shown up here before- him, but not him. Maybe things had gone wrong every damned time; it wouldn't surprise him if that were the case, he realized, the thought souring his mood a little.
"I'm not sure where to start," he confessed, and laughed quietly, without any real humor. There was so much to talk about; and yet, their last conversation was fresh in his mind. He had been trying to avoid much of it; he did not know if he could forgive Dexter- but of course, how could he not? Years of planning their reunion demanded he move past the anger- but the sense of betrayal gnawed at him even now. "Maybe that's a good sign," he asked, resentment coloring his tone just a little. "I'm sure you've been through this before with-- the others." Dexter was no doubt over it. Would a hallucination arrive with these kind of issues troubling him? "Maybe it means I'm real."

He moved across the room carrying two bottles of beer. Pretty sad, when you think about it, that beer would be the first thing Dexter would go for this early in the day. His mind wasn't in the right place, after all.
"I've had no proof that the other ones were..." he trailed off, handing his brother the beer and taking a seat beside him, "I really hope you are, this time...Brian."

If he had a heart, it would surely be warmed by that. He smiled in response, and took a sip of the beer Dexter had offered, no more bothered than his little brother by how early in the day it was; this was enough to drive anyone to drink, after all.
He was silent for a long moment, trying to sort out his own thoughts. "Things did not go as I intended," he muttered finally; it was almost an apology, judging by the tone. "I was... hasty." Impatience had led, inevitably, to mistakes. He didn't forgive Dexter for choosing Deb- there was no excuse- but he recognized the fact that he'd been mistaken, in wrecking his cover. If they'd killed her- what then? The police may well have caught the both of them.

Dexter paused between sips of his beer hearing his brothers words. He stared at the bottle for a second before bringing himself to look at Brian.
"Brian. I'm..." Dexter stopped. What was he...sorry? He wasn't even sure, anymore. He had some remorse for his actions, but he knew that it was the only way. Sorry was a very strong word, but maybe it was the word that Brian wanted to hear.
"I'm sorry." he mumbled.

He shook his head. "Don't-- it doesn't get us anywhere," he muttered, looking discontent. He softened almost immediately; that was no way to behave. Dexter was obviously trying to make this work correctly. And... a fair amount of Brian's displeasure was directed at himself. "I don't-- I mean, thank you for saying it. But you don't need to apologize to me. Even for that," he said, meeting Dexter's eyes with uncharacteristic timidity. "There wasn't any way we could have fixed things, I know," he added quietly. He carefully avoided mentioning Deb, afraid to remind himself of Dexter's betrayal, and not wanting to remind his brother of the threat Brian had posed.

Dexter relaxed a bit, staring down at the bottle in his hands before placing it on the coffee table. "Would you like me to show you around?" he said, looking back up, thinking that maybe a change of subject would put them both in a better mood.

He took the conversational escape route with a brief look of gratitude, setting his own bottle on the table as well. "Sure," he replied with a hint of his previous cheer. Best to get both of their minds off yesterday. Not yesterday. Whatever. Besides; there was no point in showing him around if he wouldn't be here tomorrow; perhaps Dexter had taken a leap of faith and was operating under the assumption that Brian was real.