DISCLAIMER: The Dexter characters are
the property of Showtime. The story contents are the creation and property of
Djinn and are copyright (c) 2012 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
Therapy
by Djinn
I know from the moment I meet
her.
Well actually, I knew from
the moment her two bosses came to me separately and told me:
ÒBe careful with Morgan,
Doctor Ross. SheÕs...fragile.Ó Captain Laguerta,
her eyes dripping with emotion that I think she actually thought was
compassion. ÒI have plans for her,
but I just need time.Ó
ÒBe careful with Debra,
Michelle. SheÕs...special.Ó Deputy Chief Matthews, his eyes gleaming
with what was clearly anticipation. ÒI have plans for her. SheÕs going places.Ó
How can I resist playing with
a toy two such powerful people want me to be careful with?
I know, I know, I should
resist. IÕm a licensed and trusted
professional. I am looked up to,
relied upon to put Miami MetroÕs finest back on the street after a shooting,
but not until theyÕre mentally and emotionally ready.
And I do that. And I will do that for Debra, too. IÕd never, ever put the public good at
risk.
But I like to have my
fun. And Lieutenant Debra Morgan is
already a pawn. Or
maybe more a sacrificial lamb.
Given the case she is investigating, that seems more apt.
Waiting for her in her office
now, I can tell immediately what I am dealing with. Other than a slob, of
course. IÕm dealing with
someone who has been in the lieutenantÕs office for long enough to unpack, to
make it her own, and hasnÕt.
Massive insecurity. A sure sense of not
belonging in this job.
Suddenly both LaguertaÕs and MatthewÕs
comments make sense.
When she comes in, sheÕs a
walking mass of defense mechanisms covering a flashing
neon ÒHelp Me!Ó sign. SheÕs so easy
to get to—hell, I donÕt have to work at
all. She gives me everything I
need. Tells me herself she is
Òfucked up.Ó
Who does that if theyÕve been
dodging the shrink for weeks?
Debra Morgan, thatÕs who.
This is going to be fun.
She makes it so easy to help
her. After a litany of
gripes, she says, ÒDid I mention I just broke up with my boyfriend, and I donÕt
have a place to live anymore? So at
the end of a day, I canÕt even go home.
IÕm living with my brother and his son—and donÕt get me wrong, I
love them; itÕs just thereÕs a reason IÕm an aunt, and not a parent—and I
just feel like I donÕt have a space to call my own right now.Ó
ÒSo maybe you should get some
place thatÕs your own.Ó Duh, right?
And thatÕs the look on her
face—ÒDuh.Ó I know right then
I have her.
##
ÒFor the first time I feel
lost in a place thatÕs always felt like home.Ó
ThatÔs what gives me the
idea. Well, to be honest, first it
makes me feel sorry for her. I
mean, who wants a police station to be home? But after that, I start wondering if
this woman really has no other life than this? ThatÕs when I want to start
digging. Of course I canÕt. Not within the scope of certifying her
after a shooting.
But IÕm very good at making
myself indispensible. I have a
private practice, after all. She
could seek me out—if she wanted to.
ÒFor a shrink, youÕre not
that annoying,Ó she says, after I help her figure out a few basic life skills
she should probably already know.
ÒThanks.Ó Dipshit.
I hand her my card. ÒNot that youÕd ever need a shrink, but
you might need a bookmark.Ó Although the idea of Debra Morgan actually reading a book hurts my
head.
##
Debra is here. In my outside office, of
her own free will. Well, and
pushed by the death of Lisa Marshall no doubt, although she says she just
needed a break. It takes very
little to get her going.
ÒI mean I show up, right, to
question her about her brother, and twenty-four hours laterÓ—the woman
was set up like the Whore of Babylon; I saw the reports on the news—ÒI
canÕt help but feel responsible.Ó
ThatÕs because you are
responsible to some extent--cause and effect, Debra. But that doesnÕt mean you were wrong to
question her. She may have been
harboring a murderer. I say
nothing, though.
Deb isnÕt forgiving
herself. ÒYou know, I knew that
there was something she wasnÕt telling me.Ó
ÒDo you think she knew that
her brother was involved?Ó
ÒI think she knew something
was up with him, and I think she was trying to protect him, which is what a
good sister does, and then he ends up killing her. Jesus, are all brothers assholes?Ó
ÒWho
are we talking about now?Ó As if I
didnÕt know. I talked to her
brother briefly after the shooting.
Very closed off person. Not
hostile, but guarded.
ÒWho else? Dexter.Ó
Ding, ding, ding. ÒSo you
think he might kill you?Ó
The nervous laugh that erupts
from her is fascinating. Her
expression is one of true amusement, but she looks away, to the side. Something sheÕs not facing.
I can use that. I can twist that.
ÒNo, I donÕt think heÕs going
to kill me.Õ Her face is
extraordinarily peaceful. I
can see that Dexter is the one person in whom she has faith.
ItÕs cruel, really, for me to
screw with that.
IÕm fully cognizant of
that. Does that make it less
heinous of me to do it?
Thought not. Oh, well.
ÒI think he treats me like
shit.Ó There. There it is. The face of the
perpetual outcast. The
swearing, the tough as nails attitude, the screw-you clothes—they all
hide this little girl that is terrified the world is going to hurt her.
That is terrified her big
brother doesnÕt love her.
SheÕs a bit of a tough one to
love, if you ask me. Needy as shit, not the brightest bulb in the pack when it comes to
presenting herself, but a good investigator according to Matthews. Laguerta sees
her as too rough, oversensitive, too concerned with being part of the gang.
Then again, Laguerta is a total bitch whoÕs
threatened by any woman with a brain and good looks, so who cares what she
thinks. Matthews is usually a
better judge of character, but I donÕt know why he picked Morgan for this job. SheÕs not ready. SheÕs not seasoned enough. And sheÕs falling apart before my
eyes. And before
the eyes of her team.
Although I
am helping her with that part. I may be screwing with some parts of her
life, but I can still help her with others. ThatÕs part of the game, after all. Never get caught mucking around in a
psyche. ÒBased on what she
told me, my assessment was reasonable,Ó I could tell any board. ÒAnd look how much I helped on this and
this and that.Ó
IÕve done this before, you
see. And never had to go before a
board. But if IÕd had to, IÕd have
been ready.
ÒHe shuts me out,Ó she
says. ÒHe wonÕt tell me
things. Like really important
things.Ó
ÒSounds like you two are
having a little trouble communicating lately.Ó I should be shot for lame-ass statements
like that. Part of the job, IÕm afraid.
ÒWe arenÕt having trouble communicating. HeÕs the one thatÕs keeping all the
secrets.Ó
ÒBut normally youÕre pretty
open with each other?Ó
ÒYes. I tell him
everything. I tell him about
boyfriends, work. I tell him about
everything.Ó
ÒSounds like a lot of talking
about yourself.Ó ThereÕs a shocker.
SheÕs actually pointing at
me. ÒArenÕt you supposed to be on
my side?Ó
ÒIÕm just telling you what
IÕm hearing.Ó You
self-centered brat.
ÒOkay, yeah, we talk about
me. A lot.Ó She laughs, and then looks off to the side as she seems to tend to do. I assess her as she does it. SheÕs a beautiful woman. The kind men love, even if sheÕs too skinny,
all hard edges and steel toed man boots and abominable clothing choices. Her face is arresting, her eyes are the
kind that stop you and make you go back for a second look no matter what your
sex, and her mouth is strong. But
her expression is so wary, so pissed off usually, that some of the beauty is
lost in the anger and tension. ÒBut
thatÕs what IÕm saying. I canÕt get
him to tell me shit all about jack shit.Ó
Articulate as ever, our Deb.
And here I go. I donÕt even pause to think as I launch.
ÒOr,Ó I say, the little pause
giving me extra sensitivity, Òmaybe he doesnÕt think thereÕs any room in the
relationship for his needs. Maybe
next time you get together, you could just make some effort to focus on
him? His issues.Ó
She looks pissed at
first. But sheÕs processing. Because she loves him and IÕve hit her
where she lives.
A slight
nod. All I get but itÕs all I need.
Here we go.
##
ÒDexterÕs allowed to have a
private life, but is it too much to ask for a little give and take?Ó She has a pillow over her
lap—classic defense mechanism.
ÒWould you say that your
brother has always been guarded?Ó
ÒWell, yeah, thatÕs the
problem.Ó
ÒBut if heÕs always been this
way, why would you suddenly expect him to change?Ó God, I love asking that question.
ÒI donÕt know but—Ó
ÒWould you expect a chair to
suddenly become a table?Ó
ÒNo, but—Ò
ÒNo, because a chair is
a—Ó
ÒChair.Ó
I nod.
ÒDexter is who he is.Ó She smiles. ÒYouÕre good.Ó
I am good. ÒHow does it make you feel when he shuts
you out?Ó
She doesnÕt expect that. She thought I was giving him an
out. ÒAlone.Ó
ÒWhere do you think this
comes from? This feeling of being
alone?Ó
ÒI donÕt know. My mom died when I was a teenager.Ó
That explains the
clothing. ÒThat must have been
hard. Becoming a woman with no mother
figure.Ó
ÒWould have helped if my dad
had paid me any attention. ThatÕs
probably why I fell in love with someone twice my age. He was shot in front of me. Did I mention that?Ó
ÒNo.Ó Jesus. The baggage this woman has. How the hell does she get up in the
morning?
ÒI was probably looking for
someone safer after being engaged to this really great guy who also turned out
to be a serial killer.Ó
The Ice
Truck Killer. I know all about it. I work very hard to keep that fact from
my face, keep my expression as sympathetic as I can. ÒWould you like it if we started seeing
each other more than once a week?Ó
She lets out a huff of
relieved air. Again
the small little nod.
For the first time, I only
feel a little bit of pleasure that the game will go on.
##
ÒAre you serious? Bowls of blood dropped on my head? ItÕs like a perfect fucking metaphor for
my perfect fucking life. IÕm not
even sure I believe in God, but IÕm pretty sure he hates me.Ó She looks ready to explode.
I canÕt really argue with how
much having copious amounts of blood dropped on you must suck, so I decide to
throw her a curveball. ÒLosing your
parents is difficult. Having a
loved one shot in front of you is unthinkable. Finding out that your fiancŽ is a serial
killer is—Ó
ÒDid I mention that he was
DexterÕs biological brother?Ó
I know I show surprise. ThatÕs not in the files. IÕve checked. ÒNo, you did not. So wait a minute, the Ice Truck Killer
was your brother?Ó I know heÕs
not. IÕve done some snooping
through my own sources. But I want
to hear it from her—have to hear it from her, to get her down the path I
need her to go.
ÒNo, Dexter was adopted so
weÕre not blood related.Ó
ÒOh.Ó Then I wait.
ÒWhat. What does that ÔOhÕ mean?Ó
ÒYou mentioned that your
father didnÕt pay much attention to you.
What was his relationship with Dexter like?Ó
ÒThey did everything
together?Ó
ÒAnd without your mother...Ó
ÒI was left behind.Ó
ÒYou can move forward,
Debra. But itÕs going to mean
taking responsibility for your feelings and your choices.Ó
ÒWhat does that mean?Ó
ÒPlease donÕt misunderstand
me. I am very sensitive to the
trauma and the tragedy that youÕve experienced, but as far as your failed
relationships are concerned...Ó
ÒWhat?Ó
And here we go... ÒWe are responsible for the partners we
choose.Ó This part is truth,
whether or not I end up screwing with her.
ÒBullshit.Ó
I give her my best ÒI mean
itÓ look.
ÒHow the fuck was I supposed
to know that Rudy was the Ice Truck Killer? Are you saying that I chose to be with a
serial killer on purpose?Ó
ÒI think you have a history
of choosing inappropriate or unavailable men.Ó
ÒWell, what the fuck do you want me to say? That my life is a train wreck of a
disaster? That my life is a shit
hole? Well, I already know
this. This isnÕt news to me,
okay? I know that I am broken.Ó
ÒDo you know that you donÕt
have to be? You can pick up the
pieces.Ó
ÒHow?Ó
ÒBy making different
choices. By breaking your
patterns. Debra, itÕs going to be
hard. But you can make yourself
whole again.Ó
She looks at me like sheÕs
just too tired. But I can see it in
her eyes. SheÕs too tired not to
try.
##
ÒI had a freak-out at a crime
scene today.Ó
ÒIs that unusual?Ó
Deb looks amused with
me. Open and trusting, and for
once, I actually like her—itÕs crucial that I like them when I play this
game. It wonÕt work if I
donÕt.
She smiles wider. ÒYes, thatÕs unusual. IÕve seen a lot of fucked up shit and it
usually just rolls right off.Ó
ÒBut not today?Ó
ÒYou know whatÕs even weirder
is the stuff that usually fucks me up didnÕt even faze me today.Ó
ÒLike what?Ó
ÒLike Laguerta
trying to swing her dick around in the briefing room. I handled that like a champ.Ó
I give her a real smile because
I canÕt stand Laguerta. If my little girl here can beat her back
a little, then go, Deb! ÒWell,
thatÕs fantastic.Ó
ÒSo why did I lose my shit
when I walked into that church?Ó
ÒDoes church have some kind
of significance for you?Ó
ÒI donÕt know—the only
time I go to church is to go to a funeral, you know? My mom, my dad, boyfriends, my
sister-in-law.Ó
ÒSo, you associate church
with loss?Ó
ÒI guess.Ó
Work with me here, Deb. ItÕs not rocket science.
ÒWhatever, doesnÕt
matter. My brother showed up. He calmed me down.Ó
ÒDexter?Ó Important to get the
name out there. Even if I
know she has no other brother to show up and calm her down. Move past the brother thing. Make him a man. Dexter. The man. ÒWas it something that he said?Ó
ÒI guess.Ó She thinks about it. ÒNot really. It was more just him
being there. Come to think of it,
every time the shit hits the fan, I go to him.Ó
Yes, you brainless twit,
because heÕs the only real friend you have. And thatÕs because heÕs family and
doesnÕt have a choice. I, of
course, donÕt say this to her.
ÒIÕve even moved in with him
a few times.Ó
ÒHeÕs your safe place.Ó
ÒYeah. Since we were kids. I used to have these nightmares and I
would sneak into his room and curl up on the floor. He wouldnÕt even know I was
there—is that weird?Ó
ÒI donÕt know. Do you think itÕs weird?Ó This. This is the moment IÕve been waiting
for. I start playing the string
out. See if, like the cat she looks
like, she pounces on it as if it were true prey.
ÒNot really. HeÕs my brother. I think itÕs sweet.Ó And she does think that. SheÕs not taking the bait.
I could leave it alone right
now. I could let her be. I could work with her in other ways,
mold her and fashion her into something that would give Laguerta
nightmares. But that wouldnÕt be as
fun. Because if
she gets strong, sheÕll stop coming to me.
Whereas if she goes this
other route I envision for her, sheÕll be mine. Forever probably.
But I take the moment. Leave it? Change tactics? Stay the course?
ItÕs a short moment. The course is set. Full speed ahead.
But I let her leave today
still thinking itÕs sweet she slept in her brotherÕs room.
And, of course, it is.
##
The department is abuzz with
what happened earlier. The Doomsday
Killer attacking us, a chemical gas attack. Dexter stopping it, standing by the door
and holding it closed while the woman wearing the chemical gear perished in the
exam room—got exposed himself, I heard. The last guy IÕd pick for a hero, but
then thatÕs often the case.
IÕm very glad he was there to
save us.
Deb has had a lot on her
plate.
ÒYouÕve been talking a lot
about your department this morning,Ó I say. ÒHow are you doing since the attack?Ó
ÒIÕm fine.Ó
I give her a skeptical stern
look.
ÒPretty much. I mean, IÕm
worried about Dexter. He wouldnÕt
go to the hospital. He keeps saying
heÕs okay.Ó
ÒYou must be very proud of
him.Ó
ÒHe saved everyoneÕs
life. Including mine.Ó
Yes, Debra, you are part of
everyone. I want to shake her
sometimes. For
her ability to simultaneously exhibit narcissism and low self-esteem.
She is clearly shaken,
though, by what happened. ÒIt all
happened so fast. You know if that
canister had gone off any sooner...Ó
ÒYour brother holds a very
important place in your life.Ó Deb
does not seem to notice the more than obvious u-turn
back to Dexter. The finesse needed
for this is, at times, minimal.
ÒHeÕs really all I have.Ó
As I said.
ÒYou think IÕm crazy now, oh,
I canÕt even imagine what a fucking mess my life would be without him.Ó
ÒI donÕt think youÕre
crazy.Ó Not yet, anyway.
ÒCan I get that in writing?Ó
ÒFrom what I do know about
you, you feel things very deeply. Like your bond with Dexter. What do you think that stems from?Ó
ÒMaybe because heÕs the only
guy in my life that I havenÕt dumped or cheated on or isnÕt dead.Ó
ÒIs it possible that your
feelings for Dexter are the reason that you have chosen men in the past who
have been either inappropriate or unavailable?Ó Have to be careful. I could lose her here so easily.
ÒBecause theyÕre what? Not Dexter?Ó
Then again, maybe IÕm giving
Deb too much credit.
She thinks about it. A lot. Finally seems to get it. ÒThatÕs
insane.Ó
ÒIs it?Ó I donÕt look away.
She doesnÕt either.
And I can see it. SheÕs already seeing the path. She is not opposed to this path. She may never have consciously considered
this path—hell, she may not have subconsciously considered it. But her ability to pick the wrong
partner every single time will now allow her to screw up the one relationship
that really matters.
ÒHeÕs my brother.Ó SheÕs trying to sound angry. She doesnÕt sound angry, though.
ÒYet youÕre not biologically
related.Ó
Her mouth
is open, her
eyes are dilated. ItÕs
almost embarrassing how easy this is.
ÒSo?Ó
ÒIt would be understandable,
given the past traumas the two of you have shared for you to develop complex
feelings for him.Ó
ÒWhy the fuck are we even
talking about this?Ó
This is the most insightful
thing she has ever asked me. I
suddenly see why she might be a great detective. Her eyes are narrowed,
her brain—obviously sharper than I have given her credit for—is
telling her something is not right here.
Path A should not have led us to Destination Z.
ÒYou mention Dexter. He comes up in these sessions a
lot. ArenÕt you curious as to why
that is?Ó
ÒHeÕs a huge part of my
life. ThatÕs it.Ó SheÕs mad now. ItÕd be denial if she were really in
love with him. If
I hadnÕt planted the seed that she was feeling a moment ago. Now sheÕs just...pissed. ÒEnd of story.Ó
ÒYouÕre getting upset.Ó Fall back on the classics: State the obvious.
ÒFuck, yes, IÕm becoming
upset, because youÕre making it sound like I want to...be with him or
something.Ó
Fascinating. With anyone else but Dexter, she would
have simply said fuck him.
ÒWell, do you?Ó
Again that
look. The
open mouth. The eyes just so.
Arousal. Then she
stands. ÒLook. I love my brother. But I am sure as shit not in love with
my brother, if thatÕs what youÕre getting at. WeÕre done here.Ó
I donÕt turn to watch her go.
WeÕre done here. For now.
##
She barges into my office at
the station. ÒYou were right.Ó
Time to be firm. ÒDebra, we can schedule a time.Ó
ÒI told him. I fucking told my brother that I love
him, and he said ÔI love youÕ back.
Not ÔMe, tooÕ or something like that. He actually said ÔI love you.ÕÓ
ÒWow. ThatÕs big, isnÕt it?Ó
ÒYeah, I mean, I donÕt think
he understood that IÕm in love with him, but still he said the actual words for
the first time.Ó
I feel sorry for her. That she can think that saying those
words for the first time—a significant milestone indeed—is the
signal to land this emotional bomb on her brother. But thatÕs why I picked her. She doesnÕt have a clue what sheÕs
doing. SheÕs going to completely
ruin the only relationship she has in her life when he reacts as most people
would. Especially a person as
emotionally stunted as her brother appears to be.
And then what will Debra have
left?
Well, me, of course.
I did mention I found her
attractive, right?
ÒWhat do you think it means?Ó
I ask.
ÒI donÕt know what the fuck
it means, thatÕs why IÕm here.Ó She
takes a breath. ÒIs this just
horribly wrong?Ó
ÒDoes it feel wrong?Ó
ÒIt makes my whole
life—every man IÕve ever loved—make sense.Ó
Yes, we call that
rationalization.
ÒItÕs like IÕve always been
looking for someone like Dexter. Or
someone whoÕs the opposite of Dexter.Ó
Okay, so pretty much the
whole male population, then?
ÒAs a way to avoid the fact
that IÕm in love with him.Ó
My work here is done.
ÒItÕs just clear to me
now. And I want it to be clear to
him. I want him to
understand.Ó
ÒOkay. You want to tell him how you feel in a
way that he can hear you.Ó
ÒYes.Ó SheÕs crying. And smiling. And laughing. ÒIs this how it feels to be in control
of your emotions?Ó
I smile. But then I let the smile fade. I want her to understand. She needs to know that I warned
her. That IÕm
concerned for her. That this
voyage of enlightenment was never about telling Dexter, and now that she wants
to tell him, she needs to understand this one simple fact: ÒBut you canÕt control his. You donÕt know how heÕs going to react.Ó
Her good mood
evaporates. She stands and walks
out, and I know sheÕs off to do it, because thatÕs how Debra is. Ready, fire, aim.
She doesnÕt know how heÕll
react.
I do.
SheÕll be back to me. Sooner than she
thinks.
And then weÕll really get to
work.
A pretty
police lieutenant. A nice addition to the
collection.
FIN