DISCLAIMER: The Dexter characters are
the property of Showtime. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn
and are copyright (c) 2013 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
Should Auld Acquaintance
Be Forgot
by Djinn
This
contains SPOILERS for the Dexter Season 7 finale and earlier seasons.
1.
The
fireworks—why are there fireworks?
Deb clutches DexterÕs hand and tries to make sense of what
happened.
Fuck. Fucking goddamned fuckballs. She killed LaGuerta. How much sense can she make of that?
Why
are they at AngelÕs party after she killed LaGuerta?
But
she forces her mind to slow down, forces the panic down. They are here because everyone needs to
see them here. Because Dexter fixed
the crime scene to look like what it was—
But
it was her gun. How do they explain
that it was her damn gun?
She
tugs him back to her. ÒDex, what are we doing here?Ó
ÒGetting
Harrison, remember?Ó
ÒI
already called in for her location.
The timeline—itÕs getting fucked up.Ó
He
glares at her. He knows this. SheÕs supposed to be quiet now. Go along with a plan sheÕs not even sure
she can follow. But heÕs the one who
comes up with the plans. Always.
Only
his plan with Travis Marshall is what got them into this fucking mess. Maybe Dexter shouldnÕt make all the
goddamned plans. Maybe she should
make the plans from here on out.
Her
phone rings and she answers. She
listens, not believing and yet, it all makes sense on this night of all nights
that Hannah Fucking McKay would goddamn escape from custody and be on the
loose.
She
decides not to tell Dexter. He does
not need to start thinking with his dick right now. She wishes she had brought her Xanax
with her, but she thought sheÕd be drinking and knows better than to mix. Why the hell did she think that fun
would be in the offing tonight?
When is fun ever an option in this balls-up life?
SheÕd
kill for a pill, would let it sink under her tongue. It melts faster that way than when she
takes it with water. Her doctor has
told her not to take them like that, but the drug hits so much better she canÕt
help herself.
Shit,
sheÕll be an addict for sure after tonight. She holds out her hand, itÕs shaking
like a lush going through DTs.
ÒDeb,
stop it.Ó Dexter looks worried.
Worried for her or worried for him?
ÒIÕm
good. IÕm fine.Ó She gives him her most brilliant
smile. ÒHappy fucking new year, big
brother.Ó
##
The
night is finally over. Dexter is
not sure how his plan—so hastily amended when Deb showed up and shot LaGuerta instead of letting him use EstradaÕs gun on
her—worked but it did.
He
was going to drop Deb off at her house, but one look at her eyes told him leaving
her alone would be a mistake. So
sheÕs in his car, staring out the passenger window, hands clenching her dress.
He
reaches over, gently tries to work her hands free of the fabric, but she wonÕt
let go so he leaves her alone.
ÒWhat
you said, Dex.
ÔDo what you gotta do.Õ WhyÕd you say that?Ó
He
knows better than to tell her who said it to him, how much he understands it
now, the giving in, the giving up, the utter forgiveness and understanding in
that statement. He just shrugs and
says, ÒIt seemed like the right thing to say.Ó
He
can still hear Hannah saying it. Unafraid but not defiant like so many on his table. ÒDo what you gotta
do.Ó
He
loves her. He misses her. He canÕt ever tell Deb that. Not just because she hates Hannah, but
also because Deb loves him and is in love with him and she just killed an
innocent woman to save him.
Or
did she do it to save herself, too?
He
needs to figure that out. Hannah
would tell him motive is important.
It was the mistake he made with Isaac, assuming that since he knew who
was after him, he didnÕt need to understand him the way he would otherwise.
He
needs to understand who Deb is now.
They
get out of the car, walk to the apartment doorway.
ÒOh,
fucking son of a bitch.Ó Deb tries
to get to his door first, but he pulls her back.
A
black orchid sits in a pot in front of his door. He feels hope somewhere deep inside of
him. ÒWhat...does this mean?Ó He wants to know the true meaning: the
language of flowers. Hannah
wouldnÕt give him this particular flower by accident.
Deb
goes for the more literal answer.
ÒIt means she fucking escaped.
Does this mean sheÕs after you?
Is that piece-of-shit thing poisoned?Ó
He
picks it up, cradling it almost.
ÒNo.Ó
ÒDex, you canÕt take it in there. What about Harrison?Ó
ÒShe
loves him. And he loves her.Ó He sees it is the wrong thing to say as
soon as the words are out of his mouth.
Harrison and Deb have a...cautious way of dealing with each other.
He
unlocks the door, sees Jamie texting someone, and she smiles but shoots Deb a
halfway guilty look. ÒHey, you
two. Harrison is fast asleep.Ó
ÒThanks
for staying, Jamie.Ó
ÒNo
problem. IÕll see you tomorrow?Ó
ÒSleep
in. We will.Ó
ÒWill
we?Ó Deb asks, looking around.
ÒWhat if they call? My car
is at my house.Ó
Jamie
touches her arm. ÒI can be back at
ten, howÕs that?Ó
Deb
nods, then seems to shake herself. ÒThank you. YouÕre so good to us.Ó
Us. There is an us,
now. Dexter is not sure what that
means.
Not
that heÕs opposed to Deb thinking of them as a family unit, but is that what
sheÕs thinking? Or is she thinking
of them as a killing unit? As something evil.
DoesnÕt
she understand that no matter whose finger pulled the trigger, Dexter murdered LaGuerta. She would never have been in that
shipping container but for him.
He
looks over at the orchid.
Hannah
would have understood that.
##
Deb
tells Dexter she wants to go to her house, but heÕs like Velcro and wonÕt leave
her side. She wants to go to the
station, wants to get the video and anything else that incriminates them out of
LaGuertaÕs office. Finally she just tells him to drive them
there.
The
station is quiet. ItÕs New YearÕs
Day, after all. No one wants to
work this day. Half of those who
are working are hung over, drinking coffee as if itÕs going to save their souls.
She
walks in like sheÕs still a good cop.
Like she didnÕt murder their captain in a shipping container on New
YearÕs Eve. ÒWait here,Ó she tells Dex, and goes upstairs to LaGuertaÕs
office.
The
laptop is still on her desk. The
disk isnÕt in it. ÒMother fucking
fuck.Ó Deb sits down at the
desk—better to look like sheÕs trying to help, trying to clean up work
that might need to go back downstairs now that LaGuerta
is gone—than to look like sheÕs a crazy woman rifling through the
captainÕs office. She goes through
the drawers slowly, but doesnÕt find the disk.
She
starts on the credenza behind the desk.
Nothing. The long wooden
file cabinet to the left of the desk is next, but thereÕs no disk. She even checks to make sure nothingÕs
taped under the furniture. No joy.
There
are no swear words that cover how she feels. She wants to lie down on the floor in a
ball and moan, but she picks up the files she has found and leaves LaGuertaÕs office.
Dexter
is coming down the hall when she gets off the elevator on the main level.
ÒWhere
were you?Ó Evidence and the menÕs room lie behind him.
ÒReally? Guess.Ó He moves closer. ÒDid you find the disk?Ó
ÒNo. She moved it. Did you check her car last night?Ó
He
nods. ÒI can check her house
again.Ó
ÒI
donÕt know. Maybe itÕs better to
let it go. Someone will pack up her
stuff and not even wonder what it is.Ó
ÒOr
Angel will pack up her stuff. And
then what?Ó Dexter has the look he
always gets when heÕs considering.
ÒIÕll check her house. IÕll
be quick. I need to get those
warrants anyway.Ó
ÒOh. Right.Ó Again she wants to curl up on the floor
in a fetal position and never get back up.
ÒI want to go home, Dex.Ó
He
nods. ÒOkay.Ó
ÒYouÕre
just saying that because you want to go break into her house.Ó
ÒYouÕre
not wrong.Ó He smiles, the slightly
awkward smile of her big brother.
When did that smile stop making her feel like everything was going to be
okay? When she killed to keep him
safe? To keep
both of them safe?
ÒTake
me home, Dex.
I just want to sleep.Ó
##
Dexter
slips into LaGuertaÕs house. The warrants are still out and he takes
them, goes quickly through the rest of the papers, taking anything that looks
like it might implicate Deb or him but leaving enough to make their dead captain
look obsessed, since thatÕs the story heÕs set into motion.
And also the truth.
She was obsessed. She was also dead-on correct. If her accuracy hadnÕt threatened Deb
and his safety, he might admire her.
He never thought much of her police work prior to this.
The
disk is there, too. She clearly
didnÕt expect him to break in.
Dexter
clears out, sending a silent apology to Angel, who will probably get stuck
cleaning up his ex-wifeÕs possessions because that is the kind of guy Angel
is. Jamie doesnÕt seem terribly
broken up over LaGuertaÕs death, and Dexter wonders
how LaGuerta treated AngelÕs little sister. Hopefully better than she treated Deb.
Once
heÕs safely away from the house, he heads to HannahÕs house but sees that itÕs
locked up tight and imagines the handyman is looking after it for her. He pulls out the piece of paper that he
wrote Arlene SchramÕs address on, turns the car
around, and heads across town.
Arlene
is pretty much what he expects. She
swears Hannah isnÕt there.
ÒI
want you to do one thing for me, all right? IÕm going to stand here and youÕre going
to shut the door and give Hannah thisÓ—he pulls out the pen he stole from
evidence while he was logging in other casework this morning and hands it to
her—Òand sheÕs going to know what it is. IÕll be waiting.Ó He crosses his arms across his chest.
Arlene
closes the door and many minutes pass.
Enough that he begins to feel stupid as he stands there, nodding to the
couple of people who pass by.
Then
the door opens and Hannah asks, ÒWhy?Ó
ÒThings
have changed. Deb will have to drop
the charges. But it wonÕt be for a
while. I wanted you to know that,
though. That eventually youÕll get
your old life back. So donÕt do
anything desperate. Lay low and be
patient.Ó
ÒShe
hates me. She wonÕt do it.Ó
ÒShe
will. Like I said. Things have changed.Ó He wants to kiss her, but his lip still
hurts from when she bit him. ÒI got
your flower.Ó
ÒIt
means a number of things.Ó
ÒI
figured. Does it mean death?Ó
ÒThatÕs
one possible meaning.Ó
ÒWhat
else does it mean?Ó
She
studies him. ÒIt means sex. It means power.Ó
ÒThat
could be either of us.Ó
She
smiles. It is a smile he is not
sure how to read. ÒExactly.Ó
ÒIs
your place okay for now? Is there
anything you want me to do?Ó
She
cocks her head as if the question has taken her by surprise. As if him caring about her welfare is a
surprise. ÒItÕs fine. But thanks.Ó
ÒDeb
thought the orchid was poisoned.
She didnÕt want it around Harrison.Ó
Her
face loses all expression. ÒWhat do
you think?Ó
ÒI
told her youÕd never hurt Harrison.
He misses you, by the way.
He keeps asking for you.Ó He
smiles, knows it is a smile that only she gets to see—he wonders if she
has any idea how much of him she owns.
ÒI
love him.Ó
ÒI
believe that.Ó
ÒYou
trust me with him?Ó
He
nods slowly. ÒBut I would worry
about the kids around him who might bully him. The poor girl who
breaks his heart. A coach who belittles him. Any college that wonÕt let him in.Ó
She
laughs. ÒI canÕt poison a whole
university.Ó He notices sheÕs not
saying she wouldnÕt poison the rest of the people he named.
ÒI
donÕt know...Ó He
is grinning. Feels a weight coming
off. ÒWell, IÕve got to go. Things are crazy. I...we...I killed a cop.Ó
Her
eyes widen. ÒYou...what now?Ó
ÒItÕs
complicated. Really complicated. I know you have no reason to trust me
after everything, but...try?Ó He
lets himself drink in the sight of her, then turns and walks away.
ÒDex?Ó
He
glances back.
She
holds up the pen. ÒThank you.Ó
He
nods and heads back to the car.
##
Deb
canÕt believe they are going to get away with this. There is the standard interview after a
shooting. SheÕs seeing a different
shrink this time, thank God, and sheÕs in and out of counseling for the
shooting in no time. There isnÕt
even much of a peep from Internal Affairs: too many people witnessed the
devolution of Captain Maria LaGuerta to question
DebÕs story. Dexter is
popular. No one can believe heÕs
the Bay Harbor Butcher.
There
are days she canÕt believe he is.
ÒMaÕam?Ó A uniform stands in her doorway, looking
very uncomfortable.
ÒWhat
is it?Ó
ÒI
was sent to collect the evidence for the Hannah McKay flight hearing.Ó
Deb
gives him her ÒStop wasting my fucking timeÓ look. ÒSo collect it.Ó
ÒThatÕs
just it, maÕam. The pen...itÕs not
there.Ó
God
fucking damn it. Dexter and his
ÒGuess where I fucking was?Ó
Liberating the one thing that would keep his escaped lover in prison
where she goddamn belongs. ÒCheck
again.Ó
ÒWe
checked three times.Ó
ÒSomeoneÕs
head is going to fucking roll. Get
the fuck out of my office.Ó
The
uniform looks terrified as he leaves.
HeÕs just a kid, really. She
should take pity on him. She
reaches into her desk drawer, pops open her pill bottle, and grabs a Xanax, letting
it sit under her tongue, the taste of the pill for some reason reminding her of
the smokiness of single malt scotch.
She
buzzes Dexter in the lab. He picks
up the phone, doesnÕt leave it on speaker.
ÒDeb?Ó
ÒGet
the fuck in here.Ó
She
sees him look up through his window, his eyes narrowed.
ÒI
am not fucking kidding.Ó
She
knows he is getting some lies ready for her. Because thatÕs how he
is. He lies. He lies all the time. He always has and sheÕs fine with
that. She made a decision to be fine
with that. She made the ultimate
decision to be fine with that.
ÒDo
what you gotta do,Ó he said, and she blew a hole in LaGuertaÕs chest.
Why the hell was that what she had to do?
Dexter
is standing in her doorway.
ÒShut
the door.Ó
He
does it tentatively, but that too is part of his act. Playing the simple guy, the harmless
guy. The guy everyone loves: ÒwouldnÕt
hurt a flyÓ Dexter.
ÒThe
fucking pen, Dex?Ó
He
at least isnÕt trying to bullshit her.
ÒShe escaped. It seemed like
fate intervened for her. I had
to.Ó He leans forward. ÒDrop the charges, Deb.Ó
ÒEven if I did, she still fled from custody.Ó
He
shakes his head, and his eyes are hard like they were the day LaGuerta had him in the interrogation room. When he turned the tables on her. Deb knows sheÕs wrong about the
bullshit—sheÕs going to get played and wants nothing more than to reach
into her desk and grab another pill before he can start on her.
ÒShe
had a seizure, Deb. She woke up in
a strange place. Alone. Disoriented. She was afraid. She had amnesia.Ó
ÒOh,
fuck me, Dex.
She did not have amnesia.Ó
ÒShe
could have. IÕm sure thereÕs a
doctor that will say she did.Ó His
look dares her to say he wonÕt find one.
ÒYou
just want her back.Ó
ÒNo.Ó He leans forward. ÒShe tried to kill you and I canÕt
forgive that. But she needs to know
that youÕre done chasing her. I
need to be able to tell her that—to give her the freedom she needs so she
takes you out of her crosshairs.Ó
Deb
knows heÕs maneuvered her into a corner.
ÒYou wonÕt get back with her?Ó
ÒYou
and I need to stick together.Ó He
is looking at her with the same look he had on his face the night he gave her
the pen. The look that says she
comes first. First
over Hannah. First over anyone.
ÒDamn
you, Dexter.Ó She looks away, canÕt
stand to see that look on his face, canÕt stand to feel what it makes her feel
when it doesnÕt make him feel the same thing. ÒFine. Tell her to find a fucking doctor that
will certify she has amnesia. Get
her story airtight. I donÕt want to
go down for this when weÕve just dodged a bullet.Ó Horrible saying. LaGuerta
didnÕt have a chance to dodge—didnÕt even know she should dodge. LaGuerta
expected Deb to shoot Dexter.
How
different would things have been if she had? SheÕd still have been an accessory to
murder. Or would LaGuerta have destroyed the disk? One favor in exchange
for another?
And
what does it matter? The woman is
dead. Deb canÕt go back and redo
things. And she knows she wouldnÕt
if she could.
##
Dexter
knocks on ArleneÕs door. She is
friendlier this time, lets him in and takes him to where Hannah is sitting on
the bed in a spare room.
ÒYouÕre
still getting sun,Ó she says.
ÒYouÕre
still not.Ó
ÒKeeping
a low profile. WasnÕt that the
idea?Ó
ÒIt
was. Can I sit?Ó
She
nods and he leans against the footboard so he can see her face.
ÒDebÕs
willing to drop the murder charges.Ó
ÒAnd
the flight charges?Ó
ÒI
pointed out you have amnesia. That you have a doctor to certify that. You were so sick with the seizure. You were confused, didnÕt know who you
were. Could remember Arlene, but
not what happened to put you in the hospital. You panicked and got the hell out of
there.Ó
Hannah
smiles. ÒA nice story.Ó
ÒGet
a doctor to validate it and it will be fact and not just a story.Ó
ÒI
donÕt know too many shrinks.Ó
ÒI
know a few. Some
who arenÕt too smart. You
could play them if you wanted to.
Throw yourself on their mercy.Ó
ÒAnd
then what? What do you expect from
me?Ó She pushes her foot against
his. ÒResumption of what we had?Ó
ÒI
expect you to start your life back up.
As if I never came and disrupted it.Ó He looks down. ÒI told Deb we werenÕt getting back
together. And I meant it. You and I are done, Hannah. And she needs me right now.Ó
ÒWhat
is it with you two?Ó
ÒIt
would be unfair to her to tell you.Ó
ÒMeaning...?Ó She starts to laugh softly. ÒOhhhhh. That explains so much.Ó
He
looks away, afraid to give her anything of DebÕs truths—DebÕs oh so
unpleasant truths. Nothing has
shaken him as much as hearing that she was in love with him.
ÒAre
you going to be with her?Ó HannahÕs
voice holds a plaintive note he doesnÕt like.
ÒSheÕs
unraveling right now. The last
thing she needs is that. She needs
her brother, same as always.Ó
ÒWhy
is she unraveling? What happened
with you two?Ó
ÒI
canÕt say.Ó
ÒWhat
can you say?Ó
He
meets her eyes. As always, she
doesnÕt look away. ThatÕs probably
the thing he loves most about her: the fearless way she has of meeting his
gaze. ÒThat staying away from you
is hard. I mean if you wanted me
back in. If you donÕt, then itÕs
not, because I would not want to be an unwelcome guest in your life.Ó
She
laughs. ÒIÕm glad you realize
that.Ó She crawls toward him. ÒI could never hurt you. DonÕt you know that?Ó
He
touches his lip. ÒEvidence exists
to the contrary.Ó
ÒThat
was just a demonstration.Ó She is
crawling onto his lap. ÒWe never
got to say goodbye.Ó
He
knows he shouldnÕt kiss her. He
shouldnÕt run his hands up under her tank top. Or pull off her clothes. Or let her ease his off. He should not make love to her.
He does all of those things anyway.
ÒOur
time will come, Dex. You want to take a break, fine. But this...this is just prelude, all of
this. WeÕre not done. Not by a long shot.Ó She pulls him closer. ÒI will love you forever.Ó
ItÕs
a morbid thought but he wonders how long forever lasts with her. Till she dies or till
he does?
2.
Deb
sits outside HannahÕs house and watches her putter around her little
greenhouse. Finally she gets out of
the car and walks up the walkway.
Hannah
doesnÕt look pleased to see her.
ÒYou here to arrest me again?Ó
ÒNope.Ó
ÒCome
to buy flowers, then?Ó
Deb
shakes her head. ÒYou said
something. Of all the bullshit
thatÕs come out of your mouth, one thing was right. But itÕs not true anymore. IÕm not a hypocrite.Ó
Hannah
leans against a table and shrugs.
ÒOkay.Ó
ÒThat
makes us even.Ó
ÒIÕm
not sure what you mean.Ó
Deb isnÕt entirely sure what she means, either. SheÕs taken too much fucking Xanax and
she has to lean back against a table, too, copying HannahÕs pose. ÒThe charges have been dropped. The flight charges too, once we got your
doctorÕs report.Ó
ÒI
know. ThatÕs why IÕm back here.Ó
Deb
can feel her face getting the ugly expression her mother used to hate. ÒDex told
you?Ó
ÒMy
lawyer did.Ó Hannah walks over to
her. ÒIs there a reason youÕre
here? We have nothing left to say
to each other, do we? Dexter is out
of my life. He
chose you, remember? He betrayed me for you.Ó
ÒAnd
youÕll never forgive him for that.Ó
ÒWould
you?Ó
ÒNo.Ó But she has. And she probably will again. Deb has made a career out of forgiving
Dexter everything.
She
turns to go.
ÒDo
you want an orchid? A goodbye
gift.Ó
Deb
looks out over the flowers, then back at the woman she detests more than
anyone. ÒYeah. Right.Ó She manages to channel some of her old
ballsy attitude back into her walk, slipping on her sunglasses, trying to brush
the residue of Hannah McKay off her life.
ItÕs
like pollen. ThereÕs just more
where that came from.
##
Dexter
is dumping a body off the boat when his phone buzzes again. Deb. SheÕs been calling him all night. She knows heÕs on a kill. She knows what kill heÕs on. And she isnÕt morally opposed to it.
And
yet he has voicemails piling up.
He
cleans up and listens to the voicemails.
All the same. ÒDex, where
are you? I really need to talk to
you.Ó Her voice progressively
slurred in each one.
Great. Drunk Deb is
his least favorite version of his sister. SheÕs never a happy drunk. Not anymore anyway.
He
puts the phone away and finishes his routine, changing out of his kill clothes,
bringing the boat in. Then he
drives to DebÕs and finds her on the patio, sitting in her nightshirt, her feet
bare.
She
doesnÕt look at him when he sits down next to her. ÒWere you with her?Ó
ÒI
told you where I was.Ó
She
takes a long pull from a bottle of beer; he wonders how many others have
preceded it. ÒI know what you told
me. But that may be a lie. Because you lie,
Dex.Ó She
laughs and the bitterness of the sound surprises him. ÒI mean, you do this so well, thereÕs no
sign, is there? You could be off
killing or...Ó
ÒOr?Ó
ÒOr
you could be with her.Ó
ÒHer?Ó He sees her face
harden. ÒHannah?Ó
ÒYes,
her Hannah.Ó Another
long pull of the beer.
ÒFucking goddamn Hannah.Ó
She looks over at him and sheÕs wearing the smile that mocks, the one
sheÕs rarely used on him, that she usually saves for the interrogation room. ÒYou have a type, Dexter. Rita. Lumen. Now Hannah. Blondes.Ó She practically spits the word at him.
He
wonders if he should remind her that Lila was a brunette. Decides not to. ÒOkay.Ó
She
stands up, walks over to him.
ÒShould I go blonde, Dex? Would that make you love me?Ó
ÒI
do love you, Deb.Ó
ÒNot
that way you donÕt. Not the way I
need you to.Ó She studies him, like heÕs something she canÕt quite figure out. ÒI dream of her.Ó
ÒHannah?Ó
ÒLaGuerta. I hug
her just like I did that night, and she comes back to life and tells me to
shoot you.Ó
ÒAnd
do you?Ó
ÒNo. I canÕt. So she takes my gun and she does it for
me.Ó
HeÕs
not sure what the right thing to say to that is.
ÒOr
sometimes I just shoot her again and make her stay dead.Ó
ÒYou
have this dream a lot?Ó
ÒI
do.Ó She puts her beer down. ÒI donÕt sleep much, Dex. But you sleep like a baby, donÕt you?Ó
He
thinks saying yes would be a stupid thing to do, so he just waits.
ÒI
think about finding a guy, any guy, but what if I talk in my sleep? What if I give all our secrets away just
because I donÕt want to be alone anymore?Ó
She takes a step closer, then another. Her knees are touching his. ÒWhy wonÕt you love me?Ó
He
realizes she is crying. DoesnÕt
know how much of this is the beer talking and how much of this is really what she
is feeling. Before he can say
anything, she has crawled onto his lap, is grinding against him, kissing him,
and heÕs too surprised to do anything other than let her go.
She
reaches down, finds him only half ready and seems mad. ÒSheÕd
get you hard, wouldnÕt she? Not
this halfway shit?Ó
ÒDeb,
youÕre drunk.Ó
ÒIÕm
alone, Dex.
IÕm all alone.Ó
He
pushes her up, trying to make it clear heÕs not rejecting her completely, and
walks her into the house. He gets
her settled into bed, then lies outside the covers,
holding her.
ÒI
want you in here with me.Ó
ÒNot
going to happen, Deb.Ó
ÒI
can fuck you better than she can, Dex.Ó
ÒYouÕre
drunk. WeÕll talk about this when
youÕre sober if you really want to.Ó
He hopes to hell sheÕll forget all about this when sheÕs sober.
Once
she falls asleep, he gets up and calls Jamie. ÒHey, IÕm over at DebÕs. SheÕs had...Ó He sighs.
ÒDexter?Ó Jamie sounds concerned.
ÒSheÕs
had too much to drink. This thing
with Maria...itÕs really eating her, Jamie.Ó
ÒSheÕs
been acting kind of weird.Ó
ÒI
know. IÕm going to stay here
tonight. Just to make sure sheÕs
okay. If you can stay with
Harrison?Ó
ÒOf
course. ThatÕs a good idea.Ó Jamie sighs. ÒIÕm worried about her, Dexter.Ó
ÒMe,
too. I just wish I could do more
for her.Ó
ÒYouÕre
a good brother.Ó
ÒThanks,
Jamie. Goodnight.Ó He hangs up, goes back into DebÕs
bedroom, sits on the bed, and watches her sleep. He hopes this is just a phase, just a
stage of grief or something.
Because sheÕs putting them at risk. SheÕs putting Harrison at risk.
##
Deb
wakes up to a pounding headache and a stomach that tells her sheÕs overindulged
again. She gets up, pads into the
bathroom, finds the Tylenol, and takes three since itÕs going to be that kind
of day.
She
can smell breakfast cooking and closes her eyes when she remembers what she
said to Dexter last night. Should
she pretend she doesnÕt remember?
What the fuck would that solve?
She
looks at herself in the mirror. The
dark circles under her eyes have dark circles. She looks tired and just a little bit
wrong.
Maybe because sheÕs a killer now, too?
She
turns and walks out to the kitchen.
ÒGood
morning,Ó Dexter says, as if itÕs every day you make breakfast for the sister
who tried to get you to fuck her the night before.
ÒYeah,
not so much.Ó She sits, takes the
coffee he hands her, sips it faster than is wise but doesnÕt care that it
burns—almost appreciates the burn.
Physical pain is something different to feel than remorse and shame and
anger. ÒWeÕve gotta
talk.Ó
ÒOkay.Ó He dishes food onto two plates and
brings them over. ÒCan we eat
first? ThisÕll get cold.Ó
HeÕs
made her French toast the way their mom used to. She wonders if heÕs trying to nudge her
safely back into the role of sister. She pours syrup on the bread, takes a
bite, and sighs.
ÒGood?Ó
She
nods. ÒJust like she made it.Ó
He
smiles and seems to get lost in the act of eating. Deb suspects itÕs an act. Dexter is perfectly capable of
multitasking.
ÒI
guess I should say IÕm sorry?Ó
SheÕs phrasing this carefully.
She knows she should say sheÕs sorry. The trouble is: sheÕs not fucking sorry. She had too many beers last night and
said things that should have stayed in her head, but it wasnÕt like she was just
making shit up.
That
said, she made her brother uncomfortable, and she knows that was wrong. Sitting on your brotherÕs lap, grinding
and telling him you fuck better than the ex you hate with a fiery fucking
passion is generally bad sibling form.
ÒDeb,
you need to cut back on the booze.
YouÕre starting to lose control.Ó
ÒOh,
you think that was me losing control?
Think again. That was just me spouting off a bit.Ó
ÒWhatever
it was, it has to stop.Ó
ÒSays
you?Ó
ÒYes,
says me.Ó He is giving her a look
sheÕs never seen before. Dark and intense and angry as shit. But angry in a cold way—not angry
the way she gets pissed, with heat and swagger and much swearing. Dexter looks like he could fucking
freeze her to death with his eyes.
ÒJesus,
Dex, lighten up.
Who knew you were such a prude?Ó
His
look, if anything, grows colder.
ÒDeb,
I know you think youÕre in love with me.
But I donÕt feel the same way.
YouÕre my sister and I love you—in a sister way. YouÕve been the most important person in
my life for...well, forever, I guess.Ó
ÒTill
Harrison came along.Ó
ÒWhat?Ó
ÒWell,
heÕs more important now, isnÕt he?
Your son?Ó She is trying
really hard to not let any jealousy into her voice. It creeps in anyway.
ÒHeÕs
important in a different way.Ó He
is wording things so carefully, and she can tell by the look in his eyes that
he thinks she canÕt handle the truth.
That yes, Harrison is more important. ÒBut youÕre right up there with
him. I gave up Hannah. To keep you safe.Ó
She
looks away.
ÒDeb,
if you keep pushing this...itÕs going to make things weird between us.Ó
She
starts to laugh, a slightly hysterical sound. ÒRight, because things arenÕt weird
already.Ó
He
finishes his breakfast and takes the plate to the sink. ÒIÕve got to go. Jamie may need a break before I leave
for work.Ó
ÒRight. Get the hell out of here while you can.Ó
He
takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly.
ÒDeb, go take a Xanax or something.Ó
ÒFuck
you, Dex!Ó
She throws her coffee mug at him.
It hits the counter, breaks and splashes coffee on him and the floor
around him.
He
picks up his keys. ÒIÕll let you
clean that up.Ó He heads for the
door and leaves her alone.
ÒFuck
you, Dexter,Ó she shouts after him.
ÒI fucking hate you.Ó
She
stares at the mess sheÕs made. She
doesnÕt want to clean it up but if she doesnÕt, sheÕll get ants—and they
give her the goddamn creeps.
Fucking
son of a bitch, she hates her life.
##
Dexter
watches Deb through the window of the lab.
SheÕs ranting at Quinn over something and heÕs looking like a whipped
dog.
ÒWhat
is with your sister, dude? She so
needs to get laid.Ó Masuka shakes his head. ÒWhy wonÕt she give me a chance?Ó
Dexter
gives Masuka the look that tells him to stop talking
crap about his sister.
ÒFair
enough. I know when to back off.Ó
Dexter
wishes Deb knew when to do that.
SheÕs getting worse. ItÕs
been a week since she propositioned him and sheÕs wound tighter than ever. He doesnÕt know if sheÕs drinking at
night; sheÕs not calling him anymore and heÕs not sure if thatÕs a good sign or
not.
He
tries to figure out what sheÕs telling Quinn. HeÕs not much of a lip reader, but with
Deb, you really only need to read between the swear words. And heÕs pretty sure she just told Quinn
to stay the fuck out of her business.
She goes into her office and slams the door.
A
while later, Quinn heads outside to the lunch truck and Dexter follows
him. As he waits behind him, he
says casually, ÒSheÕs been in a mood lately.Ó
ÒDonÕt
get me started,Ó Quinn mutters.
ÒLook,
IÕm a little worried about her.
Ever since she shot LaGuerta somethingÕs been
off. Is it out of line for me to
ask what that was about just now?Ó
Quinn
gets his coffee, waits for Dexter to get his, then
leans up against his car. ÒShe was
at AngelÕs restaurant the other night.Ó
ÒDeb
was?Ó
ÒYeah.Ó
ÒOkay.Ó So far this isnÕt really shocking. They are all trying to be supportive of
AngelÕs new business venture.
ÒShe
was drunk and...friendly with
some guys.Ó
ÒOh
and you didnÕt like it.Ó
ÒNot
me. Jamie saw it. She was concerned.Ó
Dexter
frowns. ÒAnd you got
involved...how?Ó
ÒJamie
and I...well, weÕve sort of been hanging out a little.Ó He seems to read DexterÕs expression and
lifts a hand. ÒHey, not when sheÕs
taking care of your kid. When sheÕs
off. She told me and I mentioned it
because Deb was riding me. It was a
stupid thing to do, and now Deb is probably going to be pissed at Jamie.Ó
ÒIÕll
take care of Jamie. What did you
mean...friendly with these guys.Ó
ÒDraped
all over them. Coming on to them. Drunk off her ass. Maybe more than just
drunk. Jamie said she was
really out of it. And she kept
saying she was a Ôbad girl,Õ whatever that means.Ó
ÒJeez.Ó Dexter knows heÕs not
having to fake the concern on his face.
ÒYeah. Right? I moved on finally, you know? It was hard, but I put Deb behind
me. But that doesnÕt mean I want to
see her spiral down this way. I
know what itÕs like to hit rock bottom.
And then keep going.Ó
Dexter
nods. ÒThanks, man.Ó
ÒYou
should get her some help.Ó
ÒThatÕs
easier said than done. You know how
stubborn she is.Ó
ÒDonÕt
I.Ó Quinn gives him a smile they
never shared when Quinn was dating Deb.
The smile of longsuffering males who love a woman that drives them
nuts. ÒKeep it quiet I told you
anything, okay? SheÕs pissed enough
at me as it is.Ó
ÒMumÕs
the word.Ó Dexter watches him go
back into the station, stays out in the sunshine, thinking.
Deb
walks out, her steps falling heavily on the path. ÒDex.Ó
ÒDeb.Ó
She
gets her coffee and studies him.
ÒSomething wrong?Ó
ÒNope.Ó
ÒWere
you talking to Quinn?Ó
ÒHe
was ahead of me in line. Wanted to
talk about the Rosito case.Ó
She
sips her coffee. ÒWhere are we on
that?Ó
ÒSame
place we were the last time you asked me.Ó
She
gives him a hard smile. ÒWell maybe
if you did your fucking job instead of standing her talking to shitballs like Quinn, weÕd be further along?Ó
ÒMaybe
so. IÕll get on that.Ó He turns and goes back into the station.
Tonight...tonight
heÕs going to see what Deb gets up to at night. He calls Jamie and asks her to stay with
Harrison. Jamie is, as ever, very
accommodating.
3.
Dexter
gets Harrison out of his car seat, carries him up the walk to HannahÕs
greenhouse. He sees her working,
says softly to Harrison, ÒWhoÕs that?Ó
He
sees the smile grow on HarrisonÕs face and puts his son down. Harrison runs toward Hannah, and she
turns and picks him up just before he can barrel into her legs.
ÒWell,
hello.Ó The smile on her face is
luminous.
ÒHannah,Ó
Harrison says as he looks around the greenhouse in wonder.
ÒHello
to you, too,Ó she says to Dexter, nodding for him to come in, then she carries
Harrison around the space. ÒHave
you ever seen so many flowers in one place?Ó
Harrison
shakes his head.
She
points to a pink orchid with brownish-pink spots. ÒThese are boat orchids. And these are lady slipper.Ó She carries him around, naming more of
the flowers, and Harrison seems entranced.
ÒDo you want to help me repot some of these?Ó
He
nods.
She
puts Harrison down and pulls out some pots and potting soil. Then grabs some plants that are clearly
on their last legs, winks at Dexter, and puts them down with Harrison. ÒWeÕll do the first one together.Ó She walks him through the process, and
he is very careful, then she leaves him with the rest and walks over to Dexter.
ÒHey.Ó He smiles.
ÒHey
yourself. Nice touch bringing
him. Never let it be said you canÕt
manipulate with the best of them.Ó
ÒI
thought I might need to soften you up.
Did it work?Ó
She
shrugs. ÒArenÕt you afraid Deb
might catch you here? I mean you
alone is bad enough, but I imagine bringing him here would be a capital
offense.Ó
ÒDeb
is no doubt home sleeping off a rather excessive night on the town.Ó He meets her eyes. ÒThe latest of many.Ó
ÒNot
with you, I take it?Ó
ÒNo. ThatÕs probably the problem.Ó
ÒGirl
wants boy. Boy doesnÕt want girl?Ó
ÒGirl
is boyÕs sister.Ó He sighs. ÒWe were raised together. I know weÕre not related. I understand that. But I canÕt look at her and see someone that
I should want to make love to. And
she wants me to. She seems
to...need me to. Especially after
what happened.Ó
ÒWhat
did happen?Ó
He
shakes his head. ÒIÕm not ready to
tell you yet. But soon I might be.Ó
ÒHmmm.Ó She starts to walk back to Harrison, and
Dexter stops her with a touch on her arm.
ÒWhen I asked you if youÕd poisoned Deb, you said you never make a
mistake. But you did. How?Ó
ÒSheÕs
the only mistake IÕve ever made, Dex. This is a hot climate. People who
drink water, drink it fast. They
donÕt nurse it all night and all the next day. But she did. ThatÕs what saved her. She should have had much more Xanax, much
faster than she ended up getting.Ó
ÒAh.Ó
ÒYeah.Ó
ÒShe
drinks a lot of coffee, normally. And beer at night.
The water, she has it with her but itÕs back up.Ó
ÒSee
what happens when you donÕt do your homework. But I was short on time.Ó She moves closer. ÒI find it interesting that youÕre
asking. That youÕre here with your
son.Ó
ÒYou
should.Ó He sighs. ÒOr maybe you shouldnÕt. Maybe I just missed you. Maybe I shouldnÕt have done this to
Harrison.Ó
ÒI
know one thing about you, Dex. You love your son more than anything
else. You would never use him just
to get me to talk to you. If youÕre
letting me see him, then it means something.Ó
ÒYou
still know me.Ó
ÒBetter
than you do yourself. IsnÕt that
what you said?Ó
ÒIt
is.Ó Dexter wants to kiss her. He wants to push her onto the table of
orchids and make love to her.
But
Harrison is
coming toward them, a big smile on his face, and he says ÒAll done,Ó with a
happy lilt in his voice.
ÒLook
at you.Ó Hannah laughs, and itÕs
the kind of laugh that makes everything all right. ÒWhat a big boy you are.Ó
ÒWeÕre
going to go to the beach. Do you
want to come?Ó Dexter smiles at
her.
ÒI
canÕt. I have someone coming over.Ó
His
smile dies as he feels a surge of jealousy rush through him. Of course sheÕs not alone. He looks down.
ÒA
client. Wow, if you could see your
expression. Your dark passenger is
back—I fear for my poor customer.Ó
He
smiles, knows it is a sheepish expression.
ÒSo, youÕre not seeing anyone?Ó
ÒNo. Are you?Ó
He
shakes his head.
ÒWell,
thatÕs interesting, too.Ó
##
Deb
sits in her car and waits at the marina.
Dexter should be back any time now. The Slice
of Life is gone, so he really is out on a kill. But he told Jamie he was going to be
gone all night and he certainly isnÕt planning to spend his evening with her.
She
reaches for her pill bottle, takes a Xanax out and then thinks better of taking
it. ItÕll only make her tired, and
she needs to stay awake. She sips
her coffee instead and sits in the shadows of the parking lot, wondering how
fucking long it takes to dump a body when youÕre a pro like Dexter.
Finally,
she sees him coming up the ramp from the dock. HeÕs got a spring in his
step—although maybe sheÕs just imagining that? Maybe he really is going back to the
office to catch up on work like he told Jamie.
And
maybe pigs can fucking fly.
She
knows where Dexter is going and itÕs to that goddamned bitch.
He
gets in his SUV and pulls out, and she follows him, trying not to lose him in
the traffic. HeÕs definitely
heading in the right direction to be going to see Hannah.
But
then he turns and she has to slow so her turn isnÕt right on his ass. He pulls into a sub shop he likes. Still okay. He could be picking a late night snack
up for the two of them. She drives
past and pulls to the curb, waiting to see what heÕll do.
He
comes out with a small bag and gets back in his car, then
heads back the way he came. She
pulls a u-turn and follows him.
Shit,
he really is heading to the station.
She doesnÕt follow him into the parking lot, sits outside and watches to
see if he goes in or not. Finally,
when enough time has passed, she pulls in to her parking spot and walks into
the station.
She
pretends not to notice him at first, then acts
surprised to see him. She walks
over, says, ÒCouldnÕt sleep, either?Ó
ÒI
just got done with...well, you know.
So I was still up. And IÕm
behind on the Carlysle blood work. Thought IÕd come in now since IÕm taking
tomorrow off for a parent-teacher conference and then a trip to the zoo. I told you that on Monday.Ó
Did
he tell her that? Fuck, he probably
did. She was monumentally hung over
on Monday. ÒRight. Parent-teacher shit and then comatose
animals.Ó
He
pulls out the sandwich he got. ÒYou
want half?Ó
ÒNo. I am not hungry. In fact, maybe I can sleep. I think IÕll go home now.Ó
ÒGood
idea.Ó
Or
better yet, maybe sheÕll go somewhere else. Not AngelÕs. Too many cops to see
her, to judge her. SheÕs
found some other places to party.
Where no one gives a flying fuck who she is or
what she does. They just want to
dance and maybe hope sheÕll fuck them someday.
So
far she hasnÕt. But sheÕs getting
close. ThereÕs a guy, reminds her a
little of Dex.
She thinks maybe if she told him what sheÕs done, he wouldnÕt be shocked
at all. She wonders if thatÕs what
Dexter has with Hannah.
Not
that sheÕs anything like Dexter. Or
that sheÕs going to tell this dickhead at the bar anything about her life. But heÕs fun to dance with.
And
he told her where to score more Xanax.
SheÕs got the prescription but she takes the pills way too fast for that
to hold her over for very long—itÕs good to have other sources.
ÒDeb?Ó
She
realizes Dexter has been talking.
ÒWhat?Ó
ÒI
was asking you if you are all right?
We havenÕt spent much time together lately.Ó
ÒAre
you really that fucking broken up about it? Quality time with sis isnÕt really so sisterly
anymore, is it?Ó
ÒIt
could be. If youÕd just let that
other thing go.Ó
ÒItÕs
not something you let go. You act
like itÕs a thing I made up.Ó
He
is giving her a strange look.
ÒDonÕt you think it sort of is?Ó
ÒGod. You wonÕt even let my feelings be
real. Just fucking great.Ó She leans in. ÒI will feel what I feel, and you donÕt
get to tell me whatÕs real and whatÕs not.Ó
ÒBut
with all the booze and the pills, how do you even know? Deb, itÕs not too late to get some
help.Ó
ÒThe
booze and the pills? What are you
talking about?Ó She holds her head high,
thinks the best defense is arrogance in this case. ÒIÕm perfectly fine. IÕm holding my shit together, big
brother. You worry about your own fucking
life.Ó
ÒI
am.Ó He touched her cheek. ÒI donÕt want to see you like this. YouÕre my sister and I love you.Ó
She
jerks away from his touch. ÒFuck
you, Dexter.Ó
##
Once
Deb is gone, Dexter sits looking out the window into the nearly empty homicide
bay.
ÒWhat
are you thinking, Dexter?Ó Harry is
just behind him, arms folded.
ÒYou
know what IÕm thinking.Ó He ignores
Harry and he disappears.
Deb
was following him. If Dexter wasnÕt
so used to scouting for tails, he might have led her right to HannahÕs
house. And loosed the mother of all
shit storms.
His
phone rings. Hannah. ÒHey,Ó he says, trying to hide the
emotion heÕs feeling.
ÒHey,
are you all right? I thought you
were on your way over.Ó
ÒI
was. I picked up company on the
way.Ó
ÒI
donÕt follow.Ó
ÒLittle
sisters have a way of trailing after you when you least want them to.Ó
ÒAh.Ó There is a long silence. ÒAnd her knowing weÕre in touch
again. ThatÕs just...not an
option?Ó
ÒIÕll
explain when I get there. ItÕs
still okay if I come?Ó
ÒIÕll
wait up—this time.Ó There is
more curiosity than amusement in HannahÕs voice.
ÒIÕll
call if thereÕs a problem. Sorry I
didnÕt before. I...Ó
ÒHad
eyes on you. I get it, Dex.Ó She cuts
the connection before he can.
He
closes up his work—he finished everything already. Being behind on the Carlysle
case was a lie for Deb, once he realized he was going to have to double back.
He
is extra careful on the way to HannahÕs.
Takes turns and more turns to make sure no one is behind him before
finally pulling in and parking in front of her place. He feels the old excitement as he walks
up and knocks on her door.
She
opens it and lets him in, her smile more than a little wary. ÒBefore you start, I need to know what
happened thatÕs got you so crazy—and so worried about what Deb will or
wonÕt do.Ó
He
nods. ÒIÕll tell you
everything.Ó And he does. He leaves nothing out. And he sees her taking it in the way he
hoped she would. Not as a shocking
story. Not as even a tragic
story.
But
as a problem that needs solving. A puzzle to be figured out.
ÒSheÕs
putting me at risk,Ó he whispers.
ÒYou
could live with that. You could
live with her putting me at risk, too—youÕve already proven that. What you canÕt deal with is her putting
Harrison at risk.Ó
He
takes a shaky breath, exhales and it feels so good to let go of this. Because sheÕs right: this is the truth.
ÒSheÕs
your sister, Dexter. You put her
ahead of me once. You put her ahead
of yourself, from what you just said—in the shipping container, when you
were going to let her kill you?Ó
ÒI
did. But that was a different
Deb.Ó He looks down, feels
something inside him dying, wonders if it is one of the last bits of his
humanity. ÒI think she stopped
being my sister when she tried to have sex with me.Ó
ÒYouÕre
not a prude. Why would that change
everything?Ó Hannah tips his chin
up, and he thinks she wants to see whatÕs in his eyes.
ÒIÕm
in love with you. If itÕs a choice
of what woman IÕm going to sleep with—what woman IÕm going to be in love
with—you win.Ó
ÒSo
this time, sheÕs the one who doesnÕt stand a chance?Ó
He
nods.
She
purses her lips, seems to be thinking.
ÒIs there a way to get your sister back? Rehab maybe?Ó
ÒI
donÕt think so.Ó He closes his
eyes. ÒDeb didnÕt just kill LaGuerta that night.
I think she killed herself, too.Ó
ÒYou
think? Or you know?Ó She takes his hand. ÒBecause you need to be certain. Because we both know this isnÕt
something you can do—not just because you shouldnÕt have to, but because she canÕt just disappear like my father did. And so for our sake, you have to believe
with everything in you that there is no other way. The same way you did when you gave her
that pen and sent me to jail.Ó
He
nods. ÒOkay.Ó
ÒIn
the meantimeÓ—she stands, pulls him up too—ÒIÕve missed you, Dexter
Morgan.Ó
He
smiles. This he doesnÕt have to
think about. ÒIÕve missed you,
too.Ó He pulls her into his arms. It feels like home, like the home heÕs
never really had, one where acceptance is absolute, where judgment doesnÕt
exist.
Trust...thatÕs
a little harder. He may never
completely be sure of Hannah. But
he loves her and he can be himself with her. And thatÕs what he wants now. He wants to not pretend anymore. Not with the woman he loves. He got a taste of that with Lumen and it
was good. And now with Hannah,
everythingÕs in the open.
He
doesnÕt ever want to go back to pretending to be something heÕs not.
ÒTake
me to bed?Ó she
whispers as she nuzzles his neck.
HeÕs
already pulling off her shirt, walking her backwards toward her bedroom. ÒI love you, Hannah.Ó
ÒI
love you, too.Ó
Soon
there is no coherent sound, and he loses himself in the reconnecting. And later, as they lie tangled together,
he thinks to himself that this woman may be his soulmate. A concept he always scoffed at before, but
now, when so much needs to be done and she stands ready to do it at his word,
maybe she really is that elusive thing.
The mate to his soul—a thing he is sure Deb and Harry would say he
doesnÕt possess.
##
Deb
sits parked down from HannahÕs house.
She pulls another Xanax out, breaks it in half—sheÕs cutting back,
going to quit—and imagines what Hannah and Dexter are doing.
Not
just the sex.
She
imagines what else they might be doing—what they might be planning.
She
was sloppy tonight. Rode his tail
like an amateur and he made her. He
doubled back to the station and then once she left, came right here.
If
sheÕd been as careful the first time as she was the second time following him,
she might not have been found out.
But
it was good, in its way, to be found out.
Gave her insight. Insight
that made her rethink going to a bar, made her wait around and follow him
instead. And this
time use some fucking professionalism.
Dex is on to her. Dex is lying to her.
No surprise there. What was surprising:
Dex knows about the booze and pills.
How? She doesnÕt go to AngelÕs anymore. Jamie canÕt snitch on her. Neither can Quinn.
So
how does Dex know?
Unless heÕs been following her. The way he does one of his kills.
Only...she
canÕt be one of his kills. His
kills end up on the bottom of Biscayne Bay and sheÕs the lieutenant of Miami
Metro Homicide. She canÕt just
disappear.
But
there are other ways to die. Especially if your brother is boning a goddamned fucking poisoner.
Deb
looks at the water bottle sheÕs drinking from. No more re-using from here on out. She needs to be careful, learn from the
last time.
She
starts her car, pulls out and gives HannahÕs house one more look. SheÕs beyond feeling betrayal,
hopes Dexter and that bitch enjoy their time together.
She
knows this will end one of two ways.
With her dead or with the two of them in jail.
She
doesnÕt give a ratÕs ass which it is.
And
Dexter does.
Which
probably gives her the power in this.
ÒFuck
you, big brother,Ó she says as she drives back to the station to start building
her case.
FIN