A/N: This is my first fan fiction so I apologize now for any mistakes that are present. Please keep this in mind when leaving your reviews. Also I must state now that I own none of the characters even though I really wish I did.
Summary: This is set about a year after season 5 so there are or will be spoilers for seasons 1-5 and bits of season 6. So if you haven't seen them stop reading now. Dexter gets injured and sustains massive head trauma. What happens when a serial killer forgets who he is? There will be Dexter/Deb pairing since after I saw it in season 6 I immediately agreed with it. In this story Deb has broken up with Quinn and realized her feelings for Dexter already.
"If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything." - Mark Twain
Dexter's POV
All I want to do is sleep. I haven't gotten any in days due to Harrison's recent fight against the flu. But he's finally sleeping quietly now, hopefully I soon will too. I climb into my loving bed and close my eyes when I hear the absolute worst sound on earth. My cell phone is ringing. I look at the cursed device and see that it is Deb who is calling me.
"Deb why do you clearly hate me, what have I done? It's two in the morning" I say as kindly as I can but am really annoyed.
"Sorry Dex but we're going to need you. We're finally going to bust that sick bastard Jameson." Deb states as sympathetically as she can even though I can hear the smile she no doubt has on her face. Jameson is a serial rapist who graduated to homicide, he was a potential table play mate but due to Harrison's illness I haven't been as on the ball lately.
"Why on earth would you need me for a bust? Harrison is finally sleeping I can't leave him here alone." It's shameful to use your children in such a way but I desperately need sleep.
Deb answers just the way I'd expect. "We need you to collect any blood evidence you know Masuka is pretty useless when it comes to blood. Not to mention we may shoot this fucker and we'll need you anyway. Just call up the babysitter and stop being such a bitch. I'll text you the address."
I let out a groan of annoyance. "Fine, I'll be there in like a half an hour." We say our goodbyes and I proceed to get dressed and call the babysitter. At least there isn't any traffic I muse as I drive to the location of Deb's text.
Just as I had said I arrived on scene within the half an hour time limit I had set. I see that they were still getting ready to breach the residence of Jameson. I see Deb talking to two officers dressed up like SWAT guys. Masuka comes up to me and goes on a rant about how crappy it is that we need to be there and something about twins. I tune him out so much of the time it's impressive that I got that much info out of what he just said.
"Hey socio," a voice calls from behind me I recognize it to be Angel's. "Sorry about needing you here but this couldn't wait, we have reason to believe this guy's a flight risk."
I spot Deb coming up to our little group she's been acting so weird around me lately. Did she just make eye contact and then look away. She's trying to overt her gaze, what did I do?
"Alright Batista we're going in," she states still not meeting my gaze.
I watch as they get in position to breach the small ugly yellow house. It is amazing how they move together at once, like a perfect symphony, each one complementing the other. I don't understand why there are only four officers including Deb and Batista. I guess that it's a rather busy night which makes sense since it's a Friday night in Miami but still just four people seems to really be under staffing it.
Warning bells started going off in the back of my mind. The dark passenger warns me to be vigilant. Something is very wrong. All of a sudden gun shots ring out. I stop thinking if Deb dies I'll be lost. Masuka gets on one of the police radios and calls for help. I however stupidly run to the house. I'm blinded by my worry for Deb. I cannot think so I allow my dark passenger to take care of reacting for me. I decide to go through the back of the house.
When I get to the house I find one of the officers down, he's unconscious. It looks like the bullet entered his upper arm and nicked his brachial artery, I take off my belt and use it as a tourniquet, as best I can tell he hit his head pretty bad when he fell from the shot and was knocked unconscious. I take his service pistol after all he isn't going to need it. The poor guy is going into shock so I as quickly as possible drag him back to the street and tell Vince. I make my way back and slowly enter the house, I'm careful to not make a sound. My eyes adjust quickly to the dark there are a few perks to being a monster that goes bump in the night. I see Batista in the corner of the kitchen he's conscience and muttering something in Spanish.
"Socio, you need to get out of here," he whispers fiercely at me.
"How many are there and where's Deb?" is my response as I kneel down next to him. There is no way I'm leaving.
"Just that hijo de punta he's wearing all black we didn't see him. Deb is on the other side of the house." Angel seems really worried, I look at his wound he has one bullet hole in his right thigh not far from the femoral artery but enough distance. The other is in his right shoulder, he should be fine but he's definitely out of commission. The bleeding is minimal so there's no need for any make shift bandages at the moment. Jameson clearly knows not to mess around too much with the vests.
"Masuka is calling for backup. Keep pressure on the wound on your leg you should be fine. I have to find Deb. Can you get back on your own?"
"I think I can, I crawled from the back of the house this far." That's all I needed to hear I start to leave and as I do I hear the sergeant whisper good luck as I round a corner into a hall way. There are four doors, no sound and no light.
I slowly open the first door I come to I'm struck by a sense of dread as I see a young officer dead only a few feet from the entry way. I see the distinct bullet wound in his neck, it's clear from the angle that the officer didn't see this guy coming. I keep moving I need to keep moving. I hear a scream come from the back of the house, it's Deb. My mind quickly remembers that the guy that we had come to bust is a sadistic rapist. I am filled with nothing but anger as I think of the things that he may be doing to my sister. I stupidly rush to where the scream had come from.
I burst through the door to see that Deb is handcuffed to a bed post she's still fully clothed thank goodness so at least she hasn't been assaulted. He's already started beating her, she has a black eye and her lip is bleeding. Her eyes widen when she sees me. She yells behind you. I can't hear her, I can't hear anything. I feel a pain in my side. I look down to see that I'm bleeding from my stomach. I've been shot. Deb is yelling and crying, she's trying to get free to help me but she can't. I drop the gun I was holding.
I become angry. No one hurts my family and gets away with it. If I am going to die and this prick is going to orphan my son then he isn't going to walk out of here either. I turn to see the Jameson standing a few feet behind me the gun lowered and a wide sick smile on his face. With a speed I can't believe I tackle him and his gun goes flying to the other side of the room close to Deb but not quite in reach. She tries to kick it towards herself.
We exchange blows back and forth, neither of us getting the upper hand. I'm getting weaker, my vision is getting blurry I wonder if I'll go to hell when death finally comes. But I am not going to give up until Deb is safe. Harrison will need her. Jameson gets hold of a bat and hits me in the leg. For a moment the pain causes me to stumble back. This gives him an opportunity that he has to take. I see the bat go into the air and come towards my head. I can't react fast enough. Then there is nothing.
Deb's POV
"Dexter!" I scream I can't believe what I just saw. That sick fucker just hit Dexter over the head, and Dex is on the ground. He's not moving. I need to save him. I need to do something. Jameson is getting ready to hit him again. I finally am able to kick the sick bastard's gun towards myself and in reach. As he is about to bring that bat down onto Dexter's head I shoot the fucker three times in the chest. He stumbles backward and falls to the ground.
A few minutes later some patrol men come running in followed by some paramedics. Police always are the priority for medical personal and they're fussing over me, I yell at them that I'm fine and to save my brother that he's a hero. Eventually they listen to me and get him onto a stretcher.
It's been a week. A week since my brother saved my life, Angel's, and officer Hernandez. A week since I talked him into coming to that fucking bust. I haven't left his side I had to have the babysitter come and drop off Harrison; we've been taking twelve hour shifts with him. I have him during the night since for the most part he just sleeps. The hospital was nice enough to allow us to have a small crib for him in Dexter's room. I however sleep in a piece of shit fuck of a chair. Sometimes when I hold his hand he squeezes it back. The doctors said that it doesn't mean anything.
The doctors, I'm starting to believe that they're sadists. They look sympathetic when they talk to me about his condition but never give me any good news. Even if they do they mask it with bad news. They say things like 'well he has minimum trauma to his temporal and occipital lobe' then they cover it up with 'but he may never wake up.' One even had the audacity two days into the comma to ask me when I'd pull the plug and if I'd donate his organs.
Surprisingly LaGuerta has been nice to me about this, they've given me two weeks off with pay and they aren't even marking it against my sick or vacation days. They are talking about giving Dexter or me a medal, I don't want one. But Dex deserves it. He fucking really needs to wake up now. I swear when he wakes up I'm going to tell him how I feel about him. I curl up in the chair and fall asleep I'm still holding his hand.
Dexter's POV
My head hurts. There's an annoying beeping sound. I'm going to turn off whatever that is. Why is it so hard to open my eyes? I feel stiff my muscles hurt too. Did I go out drinking or something last night? I open my eyes. Where am I? It looks like a hospital room, there's a crib in the corner, and there's a woman sleeping in a chair. She's holding my hand, she seems so familiar. I wonder who she is. I wonder who I am. I'm wearing a wedding ring perhaps she's my wife. I spot two wallets on the table next to me I carefully turn to not wake her. The movement hurts my stomach but I succeed in my action and retrieve both wallets. I open the bigger one first, to discover a man staring back at me. I look around the room and see from the reflective surface that this is me. "Dexter Morgan," I whisper to myself. I open the other wallet and discover the woman is Debra Morgan so she is probably my wife, I doubt anyone else would be so devoted.
I briefly allow myself to entertain thoughts of our marriage and what it must be like including some husbandly thoughts of the attractive young woman next to me. It makes sense she seems so familiar and I seem to have fond feelings for her. All of a sudden the crib makes sense to me since a squeal like cry is heard. I look to see a young boy pointing to me and smiling. I remember him, he's my son his name is Harrison. I smile back. He starts saying "da da" and jumping up and down unable to conceal his joy to see me awake.
The woman or Deb I suppose suddenly wakes up startled with a "Mother….fudge." Apparently trying to edit herself around the child she goes over to him and picks him up. Tries to settle him down which she eventually does and he falls back asleep. I'm struck by the sheer beauty of the scene before me. She moves effortlessly with him, just as a mother should. Yep she's definitely my wife. There's no other explanation.
After she sets him down in the crib she turns around and sees me smiling softly at her.
"Holy fuck Dexter!" she whisper yells not wanting Harrison to wake up again. She has a huge smile on her face as she runs across the room to me. She wraps her arms around me in a gentle but serious hug. "You scared the fuck outta me."
I hug her back with my weak response of "I'm sorry." It sounds more like a whisper I sound even weaker than I feel. "What happened?" I croak out.
"You don't remember?" she asks as she pulls back to look into my eyes. "You saved my life Dex, that sick fuck Jameson killed officer Tenpenny, injured Hernandez and Angel. Not to mention was going to do god knows what to me. You just came in got Angel out, found me and fought that sick son of a bitch after he shot you to save me. You have been in a comma for about a week now." She pauses after a minute still looking very worried. "What is the last thing you remember?"
"Nothing," is my pathetic response. "I don't remember anything, I remember that Harrison is my son and that's it. I had to look at my wallet to find out my name."
Her eyes fill with fear and worry, but she speaks very soothingly to me "Okay well I'll get the doctor maybe it'll all come back to you in a day or two." She gives me a small weak smile.
Before she leaves the room I have to ask, "Am I a good husband?" She appears to have been beaten around a bit and I do feel a fondness for her I'd hate to think I did that to her.
She seems very confused by the question, so I explain. "You seem very familiar, you were holding my hand, how you are with Harrison, I looked at your ID too and we have the same last name. I feel like I love you so I'm worried that I gave you those bruises. Am I a good husband to you or am I an abusive jerk?" I say as softly as I can if I am abusive I don't want to scare her or be any longer.
She seems shocked, confused, and happy? "Dex, we're not married. You didn't give me these bruises, Jameson did before you came looking for me. You're my foster brother." She looks like she has more to say but I'm a bit too in shock to respond or rather further question her, instead I keep flashing back to my thoughts of her just moments before. The day dreams still seem so right, how could they of been so wrong? She leaves the room and returns with some doctor who proceeds to tell me that my memories may come back in bits or not at all.