Author's Note: We interrupt this fanfiction to bring this special message: I love you. Now back to the story.

Dedicated to: Pointy-ears cause she's a sweetie pie.

Chapter 1

"But this is how the story ends.
Or have we just begun?
To kiss away the difference…
I know you hate this one." -The Fray

Freakazoid wanted to punch something. No, not something, someone—Duncan. He wanted to smash his face in until he felt bone splintering against his hand, until there was nothing left but a bloody pulp, kick him in the stomach, spit in his face, say that was for my fucking best friend, you dickhead.

This scared him to the core, mostly because he'd never been a truly violent person. He was a super hero; he wasn't supposed to hurt people. It was just this sick bastard that made him want to do things that were definitely illegal.

He should have punched him in the face, scared the shit out of him, gotten him out of their lives from the beginning-he knew that, now. Hindsight was 20/20. From the moment he'd first seen Duncan, Freakazoid had noticed something off about him, something creepy that he knew could eventually be disastrous, but if he had done something about it Dexter would have hated him.

Duncan was his brother, after all.

At the time, he had brushed it off as jealousy because being on Dexter's good side had been the most important thing in the world to Freakazoid.

Obviously, though, it wasn't just jealousy-and now that fucking psycho had hurt him and for some reason Freakazoid couldn't stop thinking it was all his fault.

He kicked the wall of the Freakazone, willing himself not to do something girly like burst into tears. Stupid Dexter had locked him up, shut down him of all people because he didn't want Freak getting involved. Trying to protect me-he's trying to protect me! Angrily, the blue super hero let loose a flash of lightning that echoed around the walls. They did not give—of course they didn't. Dexter was still holding him back for reasons known only to the small geek.

Duncan had, God, he'd fucking snapped and gone after Dexter. His coach had apparently recently been pushing his older brother to take steroids, and Dexter had figured it out long before anyone else in the family.

Of course he had. He was the only one who ever paid attention, who put his brain to good use. He'd even kept it from his alter ego, and then, God, this was the worst part, tried to confront the drugged and slightly too-muscled Duncan about it. And his own brother had beaten the crap out of Dexter for it, of course he did.

But it had gone so far beyond what their oblivious mother usually called "rough-housing," it was brutal, punches and kicks meant to hurt, to break, and of course Dexter was helpless and just stood there and took it until he couldn't stand anymore.

How does someone get over something like that?

Freakazoid didn't know if Dexter was out of the hospital, if he was even okay, but he was absolutely not caving in and letting Dexter go through something like this alone.

"Dexter! DEXTER, I know you can hear me!" With a growl that was only annoyance aimed at his small geek, Freakazoid pushed against the mental barriers shielding Dexter from him, but it was no use, they didn't yield. "Let me in! Let me help-come on, Dexxy!"

Without the Internet, though, all he could think about was the bruised and broken body of the person he cared about most, fucking loved to the end of the world. Freak stared in disbelief at the borders squashing his powers, thinking that maybe if he had confessed to Dexter earlier that he was the only one he could ever imagine loving that this wouldn't have happened. He wouldn't have questioned Duncan alone; he wouldn't have felt that he was on his own. They'd be out somewhere, laughing, kissing, his slender body safely tucked in Freakazoid's arms.

He wasn't even the one who found Dexter lying abandoned in the back of the school. He was in the fucking Freakazone the whole time, unaware that as he fucking lay around calmly munching popcorn and watching Rat Patrol, Dexter was getting beaten to a pulp just outside. And he couldn't do anything to stop it until Dexter had slipped, let pain sweep across the link, startling Freak into action at the abrupt, paralyzing stings of Duncan's punches.

God. He remembered pleading to Dexter, several times, begging Dexter to let him out to defend himself and fucking tear into Duncan.

–

Dexter? Dexter! Say it, freak out!

"Frehh…" Dexter had just mumbled deliriously as his legs crumpled beneath him, slumping with his back to a wall as Duncan slammed his huge fist into the side of Dexter's face one last time.

C'mon, Dexter, I can't save us if you don't freak out! Freakazoid could do nothing but plead, beg Dexter to let him help, to let him take over so that Duncan would never hurt anyone again, oh, he'd make sure of it.

"Freak...a…Mnnh…" Dexter's eyes had then closed of their own accord, his body shutting down to protect itself. The last thing Freakazoid remembered was Dexter stoppering their link, his powers, and the entire Freakazone going pitch black until Dexter mind did what Freak could only think of as a 're-boot.'

–

Freakazoid wished the wall would dent or something where he kicked it, so he would have something to show for his anger other than injured toes. He wanted to do things to Duncan that even third world countries with angry dictators would disapprove of. Actually he wished that the things he wanted to do wouldn't actually kill Duncan so that he could do several of them, in quick succession.

The only problem was that doing so would ruin Dex's life, and he refused to give Duncan that satisfaction. Bastard had covered all his bases, too -it wasn't as if he'd only attacked Dexter himself, and he made damn sure that Dexter was too fucking afraid to even remember the incident let alone describe his attacker later, no matter how long Freakazoid prompted him across the link.

Dexter hadn't been able to understand how Duncan could have done this to him when he was his brother, but drugs made you do stupid things. Freak could feel Dexter's confusion. How could Duncan enjoy that broken, constantly teary face that was practically permanently in place now? What kind of sick bastard would even do something like that?

And now Freak was the one left with the job of somehow piecing Dexter back together. All he'd ever wanted was to be with him, and now he was left with a shaking wreck who probably wouldn't know how to love again for a while.

But he would do it, piece Dexter back together, because that was what you did when you loved someone. You helped them. You fixed them. You stuck by them through thick and thin, sickness and health, yadda yadda. That didn't stop him, though; from imagining twenty different ways he could kill the person who had broken him.

A knock on his door snapped Freakazoid out of his admittedly rather depressing thoughts, and he immediately got up to open it, looking desperately for a distraction, knowing Dexter had reconnected with him, eager to meet his small geek's-

Nut bunnies.

But it proved to be no useful distraction at all - Dexter, standing lopsided in his doorway, crutches tucked under one arm, the smile on his face a sorely sad attempt as Freakazoid ran his gaze over Dexter' battered and bandaged form.

Freakazoid didn't know what to say. Dexter was even injured here in the Freakazone.

"Hey." It seemed hard for Dexter to move his mouth too much - the bruises that covered the left side of his face looked really painful. "Can I come in?"

It was a rhetorical question, because how many times had he walked in there without invitation, moaning about some girl or some bad grade or sobbing the first time Steph cheated on him?

He perched himself on the couch gingerly, and Freakazoid was still struggling to make words come out of his mouth. His heart was not performing the usual spastic dance that always began when Dexter entered a room - instead, it was slow and painful, clenching every time his best friend winced. His fists balled in response, his anger spreading through their mental bond like waves of ice, Dexter quickly picking up on the emotions he'd been shutting out for more than twenty four hours already.

"No, it's okay. I was just wondering. Are you...? You don't look okay, Freak."

Oh, God. That's Dexter. Always concerned about everyone but himself.

Freakazoid didn't see why he should have to respond to the statement, because he couldn't deny it, but he didn't know how to confirm it either. Dexter glanced nervously at the shattered TV in the corner of the room - an earlier result of his unrelenting anger and high levels of cooped up electricity. Keeping someone as volatile as Freakazoid trapped for long was a bad idea, even without the threat of his human getting hurt on the other side of his mind. Normally Freak's zany antics were merely (sometimes) harmless side effects of the limitless power coursing through his super charged body-but Freakazoid was known to get genuinely hostile if Dexter was threatened. How Dexter had managed to squash his infinite powers was a mystery to Freak-but not one whose limits he wanted to test ever again.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around Dexter to make sure he was real. "Yeah? Well, you don't either. Why aren't you in your room? You should be lying down."

Dexter picked at a sticker on one of his crutches. "I wanted to come talk to you."

I love you, Freakazoid thought desperately. He kept it to himself. "Yeah? 'Bout what?"

Dexter's big hazel eyes watered and he turned away, which couldn't be a good sign. Somehow, Freakazoid was on the couch next to him in an instant. This tragedy had somehow put distance between them, the blatant way Dexter had pushed Freakazoid away when he obviously needed help the most wasn't going to scab over until a long time had passed.

"It's okay," Freakazoid soothed. "You can tell me. I won't..."

What? March off in a rage, breaking more TVs? Curse Dexter for making him fall in love in the first place?

Dexter squinted through his glasses delicately perched on his nose, apparently trying to keep tears from spilling over. "I don't know how to say this... I don't want to hurt you."

How could he be hurt any more than he was already? Being right all along had no benefits, leaving him only with a lasting guilt that spasmed through him every time Dexter's dead eyes met his own. "Hurt me?" Freakazoid scoffed, but his voice was choked. "You're the hurt one."

What could Dexter have to say that could make this worse? That he knew? That he knew, for years, that Freakazoid never once felt anything for anyone besides him? That Freakazoid would drop everything for him in a heartbeat, wherever he was? That he knew it would probably never go away? So Freakazoid took the first scene. "Why... why did you lock me up?"

Dexter flinched at the words he used, or maybe at his tone, he wasn't sure. Empathy and pity, and God, fear, trickled through their link to Freak. It was coated in Dexter's shivering emotions.

Fear. Freakazoid never wanted to be someone Dexter was afraid of.

"C'mere," Freak commanded with the softest tone he could manage, pulling an unresisting Dexter into his arms. Dexter, for his part, shivered at the contact, then promptly buried his face under his chin and trembled like a puppy.

The Freakazone darkened considerably and then warmed in temperature-the lamp flickered off, casting them in darkness. "It's okay, it's okay…" The much larger super hero whispered as he curled over Dexter's slight form. Making full use of their mental bond, Freakazoid pushed two words overflowing with as much warmth to Dexter as he mentally could, lapping at the smaller boy like waves in an ocean.

I'm here, I'm here…

I know. The thought was filled to the brim with over whelming need and raw desperation, as desperate as the thin fingers clutching at his super suit while Dexter was wrapped up tight and safe, and Freakazoid understood it all in that one reply from Dexter.

I know.

Dexter did know-that was why he had held Freakazoid back in the first place. Dexter was shaking too hard to try to speak through a swollen throat and split lip. He clutched at the strongest life line he had then, the mental link connecting him to Freak.

You would have gone after him, and done so much worse to him than he could ever do to me. But he's my brother and you…

Freakazoid waited, poised and holding Dexter impossibly close.

You're my…I c-couldn't let you-

Do that to yourself. I-I'm sorry.

Granted, it wasn't the grandiose proclamation Freak was yearning to hear from his alter ego, of whom he was heels over lightning streaked hair for. But it was a start. And he could tell Dexter cared about him, maybe more than a young man should but-

Don't be sorry. Don't you ever be sorry. It wasn't your fault.

O-okay. Dexter sniffled pathetically after that word, burying himself deeper against Freak's chest.

Freakazoid got it. Duncan would still be around. Duncan could still hurt him, and ultimately there was nothing Dexter could do.

Just don't…next time? Freak whispered through the bond, going pale at the thought. Don't ever hold me back like that again. It's my job to protect you-I'm a super hero.

I know. Freak counted the tears down Dexter's cheeks, keeping his own somehow in check. Two, four, six...

Every breath obviously hurt the smaller teen, poking his injuries, every spasm of his sobbing face evidently painful.

But I don't want you to save me.

And Freakazoid couldn't say anything at that, only sit in shocked silence. He couldn't comfort him, he couldn't look his best friend in the eyes because he would just start crying too, but it would hurt more, much more and he couldn't take that.

"Freak," Dexter hiccupped out loud suddenly, placing an arm his shoulder. His words had sliced deeper than he'd intended, Dexter could feel it. "Say something."

Like what? Nothing he could say would change Dexter's mind, and he hadn't prepared any words to persuade him for next time. He could not promise something that he knew he couldn't necessarily keep. The next time, if there was a next time, both of them knew no amount of Dexter's immense mental strength would deny Freakazoid from protecting him.

He didn't look at Dexter again, scooching back on the couch and concentrating only on the wall. His abrupt sullenness spoke volumes to the sharp Dexter.

"Freak, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I just, I c-can't-" Dexter was incoherently babbling. This could be the last time he would hear Dexter's endearing incoherent babbling.

"Freak, please. Please."

They stayed like that for a while, Dexter crying, and Freakazoid silent, but eventually they both felt it come to a breaking point. Sniffling one last time, Dexter dragged himself with his braced leg over to where Freakazoid was sitting.

"Goodbye," he mumbled in a choked whisper, and kissed the blue super hero on the cheek. It burned.

And then he was slowly leaving the room-the crutches stopped, so he lingered in the doorway.

But when Freakazoid looked up, he was already gone.

I know.