Chapter Text
“Convict.”
“Don't. Move.”
The gun felt heavy in Dex’s hand as he stood over a chained Wilson Fisk, the orange jumpsuit bright against the destroyed SUV. He should've pulled the trigger, ended everything right there. It would've been so easy to stop everything before it even began. But he didn't. His chest heaved as he tried to make sense of what had happened. Five agents laid dead in the street. Many more dead Albanians.
Fisk was on the ground next to the flipped over SUV. He barely had a scratch on him. It was ironic and sickening. A good agent would've killed him to protect the people. But the FBI was nothing if not complicated and thinking about the bigger pictures. Something kept Dex from pulling that trigger. Something that horrified even him.
Dex remembered dying. He remembered the gunshot through his head, the loud blast followed by pain followed by darkness. Dying was oddly peaceful. It was strange. He’d imagined suffering in whatever afterlife existed. People said their lives flashed before their eyes when they died, but all Dex could think of was the day he died, and short moments leading up to it.
“Hello, Karen,” Dex drawled as he got his bearings.
The cuffs dug into his wrists and the cot was uncomfortably hard beneath him, his back protesting. Pain blossomed from his side where Vanessa had shot him. But pain was nothing new to Dex. He was always in pain.
Karen Page sat across from him, one leg propped over the other, a hard look on her face. A gun sat in her lap.
“Hello, Benjamin,” she said tersely, resisting the urge to shoot him right then and there.
Dex felt his jaw tick. He didn't give her the satisfaction of seeing him angry at her obvious jab. He'd never liked the name Benjamin. He'd always just been Dex.
“Those staples, they hurt?” she asked the obvious.
Of course they hurt, but Dex was used to pain.
“Good.”
“You gonna shoot me? Go ahead.” Dex groaned, seeing the gun in her lap.
God, please let her shoot him. Let the pain finally end. Let the noise fade away. Benjamin Poindexter could finally be at peace. But, when had he ever experienced peace?
“Vanessa opened the window, and I went through it. Your friend Foggy paid the price. Foggy for my freedom. Me for Foggy. It’s just an equation.” And it was. Simple math. A life for a life. An eye for an eye. All things that have been done time and time again. People come into his life to ruin things, ruin and use him, and throw him away. Dex finally had the chance to be free so he’d taken it.
Karen stood up with a smile on her face, looming over him. “You know what?” she murmured, grabbing the back of his head, fingers harshly pulling his hair. “You’re right.” Her other hand held the gun to his forehead, cocking it.
“Thank you,” Dex whispered, leaning forward so the gun rest against his forehead, and he closed his eyes. A few seconds passed before a gunshot rang out and blood and brain matter splattered on Karen’s face, and everything went dark.
Until now. A gun in his head, standing over Wilson Fisk, the man responsible for turning Dex into the monster he became. The man who broke his spine. The man who’s wife he murdered. In a way, he wanted to thank the Kingpin for helping Dex realize who he is but he wanted to kill him even more. But Dex was confused. How was he alive? He died. He remembered dying. He remembered so much pain, so much time spent in that damned mental hospital, time in gen pop. Years of his life he vividly remembered. And yet, there he stood, in the middle of the ruins of a failed assassination attempt way back at the beginning. Before he killed Nadeem and Father Lantom. Before he even lost his job. Before he lost Julie.
Dex had died. So why the hell was he still alive? It wasn’t right. That’s not how death worked. He should be in hell or a void of nothingness. He’d even settle for that weird green cloud he vaguely remembered being in after he was shot. His hand trembled around the gun, his chest heaving as his fractured mind tried to make sense of the impossible.
What was he supposed to do now? Dex barely registered Agent Ray Nadeem coming with backup to get Fisk to the hotel without any more interruptions. Seeing the man he probably considered a friend alive shook him to his core. He killed Nadeem. He remembered the bullet and his body falling into the pool he was building for his son. He should’ve felt guilt, but all Dex felt was a strange heaviness and pressure in his chest.
“Dex? Are you okay?”
Who was talking to him? Dex swallowed thickly, hands still trembling. Why wouldn’t they stop?
“Agent Poindexter!”
That’s his name.
“Benjamin!”
That shook Dex from his spiraling thoughts.
“That’s not my name,” Dex hissed, coming back to reality. Nadeem stood in front of him with a concerned look, blood running from a head wound. “Let’s bring this scumbag to the hotel,” he grumbled, ignoring the twinge of pain. Had he gotten injured? He touched his cheek and his fingers came back bloodied. Shit.
“You’ve got a couple cuts and bruises,” Nadeem offered, helping Dex out of the way as more agents took care of Fisk. “Did you hit your head in the crash? You’re acting weird.”
Dex’s face hardened. “I’m fine!” he snapped. “Just tired and angry we lost agents to that monster.” Dex was angry. So, so angry. He wanted to tear Fisk limb from limb, make him watch as he killed Vanessa all over again. His chest hurt from how much he was feeling. The noise in his head was at an all time high. He wanted to strangle someone or something.
So what was stopping him? Dex could very easily slaughter everyone there and feel nothing for it. The noise would stop and he could go about his day. But, that would make Matt mad at him. Daredevil had already tried to kill him once and saved his life once. His one good deed was helping Matt. And if this wasn’t a cruel dream or torture method in the afterlife, Dex might have a chance to fix things. Maybe he wouldn’t have to kill Foggy this time.
First things first, and old habits died very, very hard, Dex would do some recon on Matt. Find him and make sure things were different. He’d also keep tabs on Vanessa. He hated loose ends, and he hated the fact she was still alive right now. The rest of the night rushed by. Fisk was shoved into the hotel, people over talking each other.
“Ambush,” Dex answered quickly when asked what the hell had happened. An ambush Dex wished ended in more blood. Mainly Fisk’s blood. “They’re everywhere. Two agents in surgery now. We lost five for this shitbag.” It felt strange repeating these words. The deju vu he was feeling almost made him sick.
“Donovan!” Fisk shouted at a shady lawyer as they got to the top of the stairs.
“Stay back!” Dex snapped, eyes narrowed. God, how he wished he could throw something at these snakes. They didn’t even deserve to be called human for the way they defended and helped Fisk get away with everything that he did.
“We’re his attorneys!” Donovan protested.
“Congratulations, stay back,” Dex drawled, glaring at them as he briskly walked past them.
“Locate Vanessa,” Fisk demanded. “The Albanians, they tried to get me. They’ll go for her, too.” The Albanians would never get to Vanessa if Dex had any say about it. He would be the one to kill her, no one else would get that honor.
“And make sure she’s safe!” Fisk shouted after his attorney spouted about how he didn’t know how to contact a fugitive. Dex would personally make sure Vanessa was safe for Fisk, so the horrified look on his face would be oh-so-sweeter when he kills her.
Dex thought he should’ve gotten an award or a medal for his self control on the elevator ride up to 50th floor. He didn’t strangle Fisk. That itself earned him a reward. Nadeem stood next to him, Fisk in front of them, Dex glaring daggers into the back of his head. Things were starting to slow down again so he could finally think.
“We’re good. Get the medic,” Nadeem said as Fisk went through a metal detector, the cuffs and chains on him setting it off.
“He’s fine,” Dex scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“For me, not him,” Nadeem clarified, his voice tired as he fell into step behind Fisk.
“Copy that,” Dex pushed past them. “Shitbag’s all yours.” He needed to be alone. He needed time to collect himself and figure out what the hell was going on and what the hell his plan was going to be. But of course, the universe had it out for him. Nadeem called him back, and he resisted the urge to scream.
“Check in with the SAC,” Nadeem murmured to him, but Dex knew Fisk was listening to them.
“The debrief can wait. We’re down too many agents,” Dex argued, pretty sure that was what he’d said last time.
“You know the deal,” Nadeem reminded him. “Follow protocol and get back here ASAP.”
Dex bit his tongue as he briskly walked into another room full of monitors with camera feeds. He found himself missing the constant pain in his back. Pain had kept him grounded, made him feel alive. It made him aware he was still existing and not stuck in his head. Dex did not pay attention to anything said in the debrief. Frankly, he didn’t give a fuck about anything being said. Fisk would be under surveillance while he gave up all his enemies for the FBI to get rid of. Thankfully, his shift was over by the time he finished the debrief and told Nadeem the bullet points.
His old apartment did not feel right anymore. He hated to admit it, but he missed his apartment with Mrs. Smithers and her fluffy old cat. Dex wouldn’t call himself a cat person, but he liked Meowgi. The apartment wasn’t his anymore. Yes, it was clean and everything in its proper place, but it wasn’t home. He shrugged off his jacket, wanting a shower. He hated the feeling of dried blood and grime on his body. But before he did that, Dex took down the picture he had of Julie and the others from the suicide hotline.
The water was just bordering too hot, but Dex thoroughly cleaned himself. It was routine. Put in shampoo, wash it out, followed by conditioner. Soap on a washcloth followed by rinsing the soap and conditioner. Simple and practical. Towel-drying himself, Dex realized how tired his body was. His mind was quiet and exhaustion was settling in. He just wanted to sleep, and if he didn’t wake up, if this day was just a cruel trick his mind played on him in death, well…he didn’t know what he’d do.
But his bed was so comfortable and Dex couldn’t keep fighting sleep.
“One good deed, one chance to make things right.”