A/N: A Debster, High School AU! fic. Some circumstances has been changed, but the origins of the story and the characters are still the same, for the most part. Put to rating T for the time being, but we'll see what happens later. I'm not very well educated on school systems in America, so I'll be making some guesses along the line. Please leave constructive reviews, or just tell me what you think. It's highly appreciated.
A silent nod. That was the only thing he was able to express at the given point in time. That's not how he'd planned to do it. It's not how he'd planned to say goodbye. He knew better, so much better, than to just nod. He could have at least smiled. But he had no reason to. Not even superficially, so why fake it? Damn it, he should have said something. But it wasn't easy, especially not for him. He could see that she wanted to say something too, but she didn't want to do anything rash. And it wasn't easy for her to speak. She still cried almost every day. He could hear her through the walls. And she was crying now.
But why? What could possibly be so absolutely heart-wrenching about him leaving that could make her cry? He didn't understand. He had never been able to understand other people's emotions, or even try to imagine what they could possibly be feeling at any given time. It was lost on him.
But she was crying as he closed the door on the backseat of the car and settled into the seat, his hands dead in his lap. He had never wished for this. He never wished for much at all, but this was the last thing he had wanted. Separated from the life he knew, separated from the people he cared about. Or well, maybe he didn't care about them. But he pretended to.
Yet, he was still only able to nod. Not even smile. And he regretted it, he really did, but it was all he could do. He turned his head to the window, looked her in the eyes as she cried, that sterile woman from the child protective services patting her shoulders comfortingly. And he nodded. He could see her lips curl involuntarily, and it looked like she was about to cry even more, and he really couldn't wrap his head around it. Why cry for him?
But that is what his life had come to. Everywhere around him, tears and pain and… sorrow. Yet he felt none of it. Just a hollow unknowingness that followed the incidents of the past weeks. He didn't understand. He was in his second year of high school, and now he had to spend the rest in another school. Away from her. 'It's easier to change high school than it is to change middle school', they'd told him. Bullshit. It was utter bullshit, but there was nothing he could do about it. How was she supposed to handle that pressure on her own? Sure, she had those people, but she didn't know them. And he knew that she wouldn't get along with them.
He was 15, and she was a year younger, and he knew that next year she would get into high school too. And she would most likely be transferred to his school. Away from that town, all that crap. It was because of that town. And considering the fact that he would enter the new school in the middle of the year, it wouldn't be too long before she came along. But it was still too long.
But apparently, that's how it was when you were left with no parents. And that's how it was for the two of them when her father slash his foster father passed away because of some messed up heart disease. And then the child protective services had stepped in and said that he would be moving out of town. It was for his own sake, they said, to study out of the town that had been the place all that pain had happened. But they didn't consider her, because she was still a middle school student. But she needed him, and he knew it. He was the only family she had left. But he'd be at the very other end of Florida, while she was stuck in Miami, with no other way to contact him. He just hoped they had payphones at the school he was going to.
Man, it was 1985, shouldn't they have more cellphones by then? They had been starting to get popular lately, but he hadn't bothered getting one. But he was sure they had phones there. It was a boarding school after all.
His biggest problem was how he was supposed to behave when he didn't have Harry, his foster father. He wasn't… wired properly, and Harry was the only one who could tell him how to behave. How to pretend to be normal. He'd learned the basics of it, but now that Harry was gone, he didn't know how to perfect himself. He was on his own.
But this was Dexter Morgan's new life, and there was nothing he could do about it. He'd simply have to persevere, and make sure he didn't do anything that could get him in trouble. He was indefinitely happy that he wouldn't be having a roommate in school, at least not to begin with. Not unless someone new joined the school. So for the time being, he'd have time to be alone, with himself. To relax, and to study. And hopefully to understand himself a bit better, seeing as he had no one to help him with that longer. He had some… tendencies that he had to control. If only Harry had been able to finish his training. It would have been so much easier.
Dexter didn't know why he was the way he was. Harry said that Dexter had witnessed something terrible when he was a child, and that it had gotten into his system too early. But Dexter couldn't remember what, and Harry wouldn't tell him. He was afraid it might traumatize him.
Dexter didn't know how long they'd been driving for. He'd been dozing off now and then, and the sun had started to set, darkness covering the open horizons they left behind them. He still didn't know why they didn't just put him on a plane. All these hours of driving, it was unnecessary. Both for him, and for the people who drove him. But that was how they wanted to do it, and he eventually figured that they just wanted to make sure he arrived safely.
The next time he woke up again, it was completely dark outside. Dexter sighed and pulled his backpack closer to himself, pulling out some papers and a tiny flashlight he had just in case. He used it to read the pamphlets that he had gotten in his mailbox a week earlier, right after he had applied for the school – or right after they had applied for him.
He just wanted to make sure he had all the information he needed. That was important to him, being in control of his surroundings, making sure nothing ever took him by surprise or overpowered him in an unnecessary way. He let his eyes flicker over the map he'd been given, and he memorized it as precisely as he could. He also decided to re-read some of the introduction.
'Welcome to Barking Hills Boarding School! We strive towards creating and bettering a perfect place for students to undergo their education, but also a place where they can feel at home! Here at Barking Hills you will find everything you need to lead an everyday life, whilst living in our dormitories. We wish you a great stay, and may you become a good and intelligent student!'
Totally overdone, Dexter thought to himself, rubbing the bridge of his nose before putting the papers back into the backpack, turning the little flashlight off. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. The two people in front had been pretty silent for most of the drive, but when they did speak, they spoke with hushed voices. Not that it made it any difficult for Dexter to hear it.
"So, how do you think his sister's going to manage?" One of the men said, throwing a quick glance at Dexter who kept his eyes closed to pretend he didn't notice any of it.
"What, you mean without him? It shouldn't be a problem. They're foster siblings, they probably don't even give a shit about each other." The other man replied with a nonchalant tone to his voice, and Dexter could feel his jaw clenching tightly. This man wasn't fit for working in child protective services, and he wasn't fit to say shit about Dexter's and Debra's relationship with each other. Like the fact that they weren't related by blood made it any different? Debra had been Dexter's sister for as long as he could remember. She was nothing less than a sister to him.
He tried to put aside their utterly ignorant ramblings for a while and attempted to sleep. It wasn't easy, but he wanted to make this trip go faster. It already felt as if he'd been in that car forever.
And then he woke up. It wasn't as dark outside anymore, and he woke up because the car had come to a stop and someone called his name.
"Dexter, we're here," the man said with a soft voice. It was the one who'd been rude earlier, and Dexter just glared at him before grabbing his bag and getting out of the car. The air was humid, and their surroundings were absolutely silent. The school was away from regular population, and he'd read that it was a 15 minute bus ride to get to the little town of Barking Hills.
The other man, the one who Dexter had decided was nicer than the first, went and opened the trunk of the car. He pulled out a bag and another backpack and put them down in front of Dexter. "Want us to help you carry this to your room?" He asked with a smile, and Dexter shook his head after looking at the luggage.
"No, I'll be fine," he said in a monotonous voice, one that was too deep for someone his age. The man hesitated a bit before nodding. He looked surprised, even though he'd already heard Dexter speak. His voice often took him aback a little.
"Alright. There's a man over there who we talked with on the phone. He'll show you to your room, but be sure to be a bit quiet… it's 3:30 am." He said. Dexter nodded and bent down to pick up his stuff. He slung both backpacks over one shoulder and hoisted the bag over the other. It was a bit heavy, but Dexter was strong, so it didn't matter to him. He turned around and started heading towards the man, but he was stopped by the voice of the man behind him. "Hey, Dexter," he said, and Dexter turned his head to look at him. "Good luck, yeah?"
"Yeah. Thanks," Dexter replied, smiling gingerly before turning around again. His smiles were often faked, but he knew when he was supposed to smile. He was good at reading the atmosphere, most of the time.
Dexter approached the man standing by the entrances to the dormitories, which were actually a separate building from the actual school, a building which Dexter could see a under a little hill. Probably a three minute walk there. The school wasn't very big, so there obviously weren't a lot of students there.
"Hello! You must be Dexter," the man smiled, shaking Dexter's hand. "My name is John Daruvie, I'm a janitor at this school. This is the building your room is in. There are two similar dorm buildings, originally built for each to house one gender, but due to the differences between female and male students, it's all a bit jumbled up. But that doesn't matter, does it? You're not afraid of girls, eh?" He joked, laughing to himself. Dexter forced a chuckle and shook his head a little.
"No, I'm pretty sure it'll be fine." He said, returning the smile to the janitor.
"Alright, that's good then," he said, pointing at the door. "I'll show you to your room. You'll have plenty of time to settle in, considering it's Saturday morning and all."
He led Dexter inside. The building was fairly simple, with narrow hallways and red carpeted floors. Dexter looked into an open room and saw a somewhat large hall with a couch and a table and board games and a radio and so on. Probably the "living room" of the dorm hall. His room was apparently furthest inside the hallways… plus one story up. That's when he realized there were actually two stories.
He couldn't help himself from cursing inwardly at the thought of it being more difficult for him to get out of his room at night to get to some nighttime activities. Even so, he didn't know if that was even going to happen, now with Harry gone and unable to guide him. But he had to channel his needs somehow, or else he would be screwed. He knew that he would eventually become desperate, but luckily that hadn't happened yet. Maybe he was fine for a little while longer.
He was shown into the room that read '10 B', and he figured that all the rooms here were B's, and the other building was A. The janitor wished him a good night, or good morning, or whatever, and left him to himself. Dexter closed the door and locked it before flipping the switch next to the door to light up the room.
It had pretty much everything he needed. There was a bunk bed in one corner, and a couch in the other. He had a desk next to the beds, and a nightstand, a little bathroom off to the side with a shower and a toilet, and he even had a fridge and a stove. Yeah, this was more than enough. He carried his stuff to the closet that stood adjacent of the bed, against the wall, and started unpacking his things from the bag and backpacks into the closet. He put the things he needed for the bathroom in the bathroom, and he put the books he'd brought into tiny shelves that was attached under the desk. When he got to the bottom of the bag, having cleaned out almost everything, he swallowed heavily. He needed some place for that. He bent down in front of the closet and saw a little board covering the bottom, to make sure not too much dust accumulated under the closet. He hit on it with his fist until it came off, and there was a little space under there that could fit what he needed to fit there.
He picked the black pouch out of the bag and looked it over, opening it to reveal a set of brandished, shining knives and other cutting tools of several shapes and sized. He let his fingers slide over their handles before wrapping the pouch up again, putting it under the closet. He reattached the little slab of wood.
Those knives were a gift from Harry, for when he would actually need them. They both knew that he would, eventually. He cleared the last couple of things out of his bag and put them on his nightstand, before throwing the empty bag into the closet. He sat down on the bottom bunk and picked up the picture he'd placed on the nightstand.
He looked at it with what could almost look like a peaceful expression on his face. There, on the picture, was his sister Debra. She was smiling softly to the camera, the sun shining on her brown hair. Dexter had always been sure that his sister had a big heart, she just refused to show it. She swore a lot, even though she was only fourteen, and tended to hide away when there was too much emotion at play.
He was convinced that Debra was the only person in the world that loved him. And now they were separated, and he knew that it was going to be difficult, even though he normally didn't depend too much on other people. But Debra kept him calm. She kept him at bay.
…
Debra curled up against the wall on her new bed, burying her face between her knees, the soft fabric of her pajamas rubbing against her temples. She didn't want to live in a fucking orphanage. She wanted to be with Dexter. Since she didn't have any parents now, she wanted to be with Dexter, and being away from him was going to kill her. She knew it too well.
She wasn't going to be assigned a foster family since she would be moving to Barking Hills six months later, once she started High School. She really couldn't wait for that to happen. She had wanted to tell her brother that she'd already been ensured a spot at the school, but when he left, she was unable to say anything. It was too painful, and she was left speechless.
She could feel a lump form in her throat, and she cursed to herself. She hated that this happened every night, that she simply couldn't stop crying. But she was an orphan now, and it killed her from the inside. And she was alone. Even though the orphanage had many other people her age, she was still alone. They didn't make a difference, because she was still away from the one person who made her feel safe. Every girl needs her brother, she thought. And that's truly how she felt. She didn't even know when she'd become so dependent on Dexter, and she had kind of hated him because her father gave him all his attention, but still… he was there for her. He never judged her, he just looked after her when it was needed.
But now she was alone, and she felt truly lost. "Dex," she whispered. "Please don't forget about me."