A/N: I started this around episode 10, but then got totally distracted by the finale. Better late than never!
To give some setup I need to explain a bit the AU aspects of this. It is AU for season 8, but truly goes in a different direction from about episode 7. First, Vogel is present but her only reason for coming into Dexter's life is to check up on her creation (aka there is no Brain Surgeon). She does manage to heal Deb and Dex's relationship and to whatever degree possible, Deb herself.
Vogel also introduces Zach to Dexter as a potential protégé, however Zach is guilty of the murders of both the maid and Cassie. Quinn is still suspicious of the kid as well.
Anyways, thank you all for taking the time to read this!
"There was a dream and one day I could see it
Like a bird in a cage I broke in and demanded that somebody free it
And there was a kid with a head full of doubt
So I'll scream till I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out"
-Avett Brothers-"Head Full of Doubt, Road Full of Promise"
A luminous, gleaming Sunday morning creates a blinding brightness in the antiseptic white hallway. Quinn squints as he glances up and down, looking for some reason not to go inside the door in front of him. With no distractions offered he extends his hand, turns the handle, slips inside.
The shades are partially drawn here, the light a bit less striking. He gives his eyes a moment to adjust.
He has put this off for weeks now, had mixed feelings about whether to come. Even now, having arrived, he doesn't feel ready to face this.
He walks forward cautiously. He has been told he won't startle her, but still worries that he will somehow make things worse.
He pulls a chair closer, sits down slowly, fiddles with his hands as he takes it all in. He has rehearsed what to say at least a couple dozen times. What he would say, how he would say it, how he could try to fix this. But realistically, the damage is done.
"I…I came to apologize. I'm probably the last person you want here." Quinn takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt. I never wanted to do anything that would ever hurt you. Just seems like I'm such a fuck up I can't seem to stop myself." He almost laughs, but chokes on it, his throat closing up as his eyes well.
Quinn coughs uncomfortably. "I hope one day you can forgive me." He reaches his hand out tentatively, takes hers. Her palm is cool but it still fits with his the way he remembers.
He looks up, his eyes tracing over her face, following the contours of her cheekbones, across her jaw, back up to her eyes. "Deb? Can you hear me?"
All he gets in return is a vacant stare, directed out of the window towards which her chair is pointed. Quinn's face crumples; he drops her hand and hurriedly leaves the room. The slamming door echoes down the hall as he rushes away.
"Dex?"
"Yeah Deb."
"What are you reading?"
Dexter lifted the biology book off his lap so that Deb could read the cover from where she sat with her legs up at the other end of the couch.
"Sounds boring."
"It's not."
"Hey Dex?"
"Deb, I'm trying to study here."
"Are we gonna lose Dad too?"
Dexter stopped reading, turned his head to look at Deb. Her brow was furrowed; she swallowed as he watched her. "Dex?" her voice wavered.
"I don't know Deb."
She nodded slowly in return then sighed. "Fuck it. Probably doesn't matter. It's not like he'll ever be proud of me."
"Deb…" Dexter scolded.
"What? We both already know it. I'm just saying it out loud." Deb laughed cruelly. "He doesn't care about me."
"Of course he does." Dexter shook his head uncomfortably, hoping to end the issue and get back to his reading, the pictures of blood jumped out from the pages of the book.
"You know what he said when I told him I'm going to be a cop? He said it was a bad idea. He thinks I'll be terrible at it."
Dexter sighed, giving up and closing the book. "Did he actually tell you that you'll be terrible at it?"
"He didn't have to! I know what he was thinking. I know that look he gives me." Deb pouted back.
"He's just trying to protect you. He doesn't want you to get hurt."
Deb scoffed. "Protect me? That implies he cares about anything when it comes to me. Dad has never given a fuck where I'm concerned."
Dexter looked at her, but Deb couldn't read his expression. She thought he maybe felt sorry for her.
"Dad loves you Deb. All he ever does is to tell me to protect you, to take care of you."
For a second she didn't seem to believe him. But then her lip trembled and she was suddenly sobbing, her whole body shaking with the effort. Dexter slid closer, pushed her legs out of the way and wrapped his arms around her.
He shushed her while he tightened his hold on her. "It's ok Deb. I won't leave, no matter what happens to Dad. We'll always have each other."
"Hannah's gone."
Deb raises an eyebrow at Dexter's announcement, stands in her doorway and considers him. "Thanks for the fucking update." She moves to close the door between them, attempting to leave Dex outside. But his reflexes are quick and he blocks her action.
Deb glowers, then turns her back on him, heading into her kitchen as he follows close behind.
"I sent her away."
"Wow, that's so fucking smart of you." Deb pours herself a cup of coffee, keeps her back to Dexter. "So glad you realized you shouldn't keep a wanted fugitive around."
"Deb…" Dexter hesitates.
"WHAT?!" Deb spins around, slams her coffee cup down between them. The hot liquid splashes out, down onto Deb's hand, but she's too angry to notice. "What the fuck do you want me to say?! I'm sorry? Well, guess what? I'm not! She's poison and you actually considered letting her back into your life and mine by default. Excuse me for being glad she's gone." Deb glares at him, dares him to contradict her.
"I just wanted you to know. That's all." Dex lifts his hands defensively.
Deb takes a deep breath, tries to bring her heart rate back to normal. She swipes the hand towel, rubs away the coffee. "So what made you decide to send her away? Did she try to poison you again?" The question is cruel and Deb smirks on her delivery.
Dex expects it though. "I told you before; I couldn't risk your safety after what she tried last time. I would have sent her away sooner, but it was unfinished business and it seemed better to see things through."
Deb looks at him hard for a moment, then rolls her eyes upwards, purses her lips and shakes her head. "As long as she's gone for good you can tell yourself whatever the fuck you need to. But I swear to god Dexter, if she shows her blonde hair here one more time, I will not hesitate to take her in myself. No matter what the consequences."
Dexter's hand covers hers unexpectedly. "She's not coming back." His certainty almost makes her smile, but she reminds herself of what he's done and scowls once more.
Deb tapped her foot impatiently as she watched Dexter. Six month old Harrison fussed in his car seat while Dexter scanned the three shelves carefully. Deb drummed her fingers unable to take anymore.
"Fuck Dexter. Just pick something already will you?"
Dexter turned to regard her. "I don't know which one."
"There's ten fucking million. They're probably all the same." Deb scowled back.
"Yeah." Dex mumbled as he turned back to the shelves and once more read over the containers of formula. He picked one off the shelf and held it up to Deb. One look at the happy mother and child on the packaging and Debra frowned deeply. Her eyes darted to Harrison and then skidded off to the floor.
"Not that one Dex." Deb mumbled unhappily.
Dexter turned the can back towards him and stared at the label. Rita had been dead two weeks. They finished the formula they had at home three days ago. Then the last of the breast milk from the freezer this morning. Harrison needed something to eat. But Dexter felt out of his element. Strange how he could so clearly remember a kill from three years ago, but his own son's formula…Dex furrowed his brow. He didn't feel up to all of this.
But Deb was right, this happy picture on the formula can was discomforting. Placing it back on the shelf he plucked off a new one, the label showcasing the little letter blocks that Harrison liked to play with. Again he showed it to Deb who sighed in answer. "Let's go" she shoved the cart away and they headed to the registers.
Typical Miami traffic, even in a grocery store, all the registers were at least three people deep. Deb scowled again as they joined a line, Harrison's fussing going up a notch. "Shhhh" Deb attempted quietly, holding onto Harrison's hand. But Harrison was having none of it, his fussing turning into a full on cry. Heads turning in their direction, Deb unbuckled his belt and picked up the crying boy.
Dexter stood limply next to his sister as she tried to comfort his son. Deb turned to him, eyebrows raised. "Do you want to do something?" she hissed under her breath.
"You're doing fine." Dexter shrugged in return. "He's just hungry."
Deb bounced the baby impatiently. "No shit Sherlock. We don't even have his pacifier."
An older woman in front of them turned and smiled sympathetically as Harrison's cry crescendoed. "Why don't you and your husband go ahead of me dear?"
Dex watched as Deb's cheeks flushed bright pink. But Deb didn't bother to correct the older woman, smiling awkwardly at her instead as they moved ahead of her in the line.
As they waited the stranger cooed at Harrison peeking over Deb's shoulder. "Your son is just adorable." She enthused. "My oldest was just like him, blonde hair and all! Sometimes it happens you know? Mom and Dad have darker hair, but the baby gets it from somewhere. And then he'll just suddenly grow out of it. But he'll be a very handsome boy with such attractive parents."
Deb shifted uncomfortably, sighing in relief as their turn came up.
Once back home and with a full belly Harrison quickly slid into a deep sleep. Deb and Dex stood over the crib and watched.
"It's so fucking weird when people do that."
"What?" Dex turned to his sister confused.
"Think that we're married." Deb scoffed, the color returning to her cheeks.
"Why do you find it so embarrassing?"
"You're my brother. And I'm not embarrassed!" Deb insisted.
"You're blushing." Dex cocked his head at her, watched the color brighten.
"I..I-I'm fuck!" Deb moved away from the crib to avoid waking the baby, moving into the kitchen to open the fridge. Reaching for a beer, Deb glanced at her watch, and instead grabbed a water.
Dex followed her, leaning against the fridge. "How is a stranger supposed to know we're siblings?" Dex asked curiously.
"They should just fucking know." Deb grimaced. "At least they shouldn't assume we're a couple."
"I don't see why not."
"What the fuck!?"Deb whispered harshly.
But all Dex did was shrug and wander back to Harrison's side without an explanation.
Zach is unprepared when he enters his hotel room. He barely has time to shut the door before the needle is in his neck. Dexter dispatches him quickly, seeing him more as a lost cause than a truly satisfying kill. He is efficient as he prepares the body, cleans up the scene.
The car is loaded and Dexter is ready for the disposal of Zach's body, his trip back to Miami. He closes his trunk, takes a deep breath as he stares up at the full moon, before getting into his car and driving off.
Across the dark parking lot, Quinn leans forward in his car. He rubs his forehead, unholsters his gun and steps smoothly out of the car. He doesn't need to check the hotel room to know, the pieces have already fallen into place. But he needs to be certain, if for nothing more than Deb's sake.
Angel's visits to Debra are regular, every other Friday afternoon without fail since she was admitted. He brings flowers or balloons. He chatters away, about the latest cases, about Jamie's new job in Atlanta, about how guilty Quinn is feeling.
He knows this is mostly for his benefit. Given that he's the only regular visitor and the patient has no adult family, the nurses have taken pity on him, sharing what they feel they can. Talking won't bring her out of her state. The trauma has been too great for it to be so simple. They tell him with a comforting hand on his arm that she may never come out of it.
But the talking makes him feel better. Sometimes he has breakthroughs on cases after talking to her. He tells Deb that this is her influence rubbing off on him. He tells her that she's still a great cop.
Some days it hits him. He looks at her still form, he watches the nurses take care of her, and he feels he has really lost her. Those days he sits silently, holds her hand as long as he can stand it, then quietly leaves to go home and drown his sorrows.
Those days he's not sure he can go back. He's not sure he can stand to see her that way even one more time. But then the second Friday rolls around and he dutifully returns. She's still family after all.
The front door slammed open, the scuffle of heels against the wood floor woke Dexter with a start. He heard a hiccupped laugh, rubbed his eyes, and pushed off from the couch where he had been lying down. A quick glance at the clock told him it was 3:35 in the morning. Maybe he shouldn't have waited up, but he had been worried.
Dexter slouched forward, his elbows on his knees as he watched Deb stumble into the living room. Her snug tube top left little to the imagination. Her shorts showed off nearly the entire length of her long, lean legs. Dexter averted his gaze, feeling like he had walked in on Deb at an inopportune moment. He ignored the way his breath had caught at the sight of her. Ducking his head, he ran his fingers through the hair at the base of his skull.
Deb laughed softly. "Waiting up?" she slurred, body swaying.
"You're drunk." Dex stated exasperatedly.
"So? Not the first time." Deb scoffed, leaning back on the doorjamb and eyeing Dexter with irritation.
"Is this what you do at school too?" Dex responded, eyes fixed on the floor at his feet.
"Jeez Dex. Dad is dead and he never gave a shit to begin with. You don't need to fucking parent me now."
"You're 19 Deb." Dexter scolded softly.
"Fuck do you care?" Deb hissed.
Dexter practically leapt to his feet. "I fucking care! Alright!?" His booming voice bounced off the living room walls.
Deb straightened, eyes widening at his sudden outburst. Brother and sister held their breath as the moment stretched between them.
Dexter backed down first. "I don't want to fight." He returned to the couch, slouching back onto the tired cushions.
Deb pushed herself away from the wall, sauntering over to the where Dexter sat and plopping down next to him. She leaned against him, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Deb giggled, her warm, alcohol laced breath tickling against Dexter's ear. "So serious." Debra mumbled.
"I don't like seeing you this way." He turned his head and glanced at her sideways.
Deb shrugged in return. "I like being this way." She pressed him back, his shoulders twisting to lean back against the arm rest so that Deb could settle on his chest. Dexter's arms went around her automatically, pressed her narrow waist against his body.
"Dex?" Deb whispered, her fingers trailing down the front of his chest.
He frowned, "Yeah?"
"Do you usually like me?" Her face turned up, her mouth brushed against his chin when she spoke.
He felt suddenly uneasy and sat upright abruptly, bringing Deb along with him. She still leant into him, her hand on his chest, her face right next to his. Even though he thought he should move away he stayed still, looked her in the eye. He watched as she closed her eyes, leaned in, kissed him full on the lips.
Dex waited for her to finish, watched her pull back again. Her face was blank, pale. He stood up slowly, turned slightly away, but Deb noticed what he tried to hide anyways. "Deb…" Dexter tried, but his voice was husky and he let her name hang in the air, the sound a warning in and of itself.
Her eyes fell to her lap. "I'm going to bed" she whispered. Dexter watched her climb the stairs.
"Fuuuuuckk"
The pounding that she was sure was part of her dream seems to actually be coming from the back door.
Deb rolls onto her side, opens one bleary eye long enough to focus on the rudely red numbers on the bedside clock. 4:47AM they scream. Nobody should be fucking waking her up at 4:47AM.
She drags herself out of her warm sheets, shuffles out of her room and squints at the unwelcome visitor as she unlocks her door. "What the fuck Quinn?" Deb leans against the door, eyes closing again.
"I need to talk to you." Quinn is anxious, he pushes his weight from foot to foot.
"Do you know what the fuck time it is?"
"Look I'm sorry, but this is important."
"Seriously Quinn, if this is about Jamie or some shit-"
"Dexter. It's about Dexter." Quinn's voice is gruff.
Deb's eyes open slowly, she stares at him as her heart sinks. She's not sure what to say, so she takes a step back and opens the door fully. Quinn steps inside, but doesn't know what to do with himself. He finds his eyes drawn to the picture of Debra and Dexter which sits on one of Deb's side tables. He feels sick, but he knows he has no choice.
Impatient, Deb rouses his attention, "The sun isn't even up Quinn. So if you were in such a hurry to talk to me can you just fucking tell me what's going on?" She tries hard to seem nonchalant, but her guts are churning.
"I've been tailing Zach. I followed him to the Keys." Quinn's eyes are still trained on the picture, his back to Deb. She waits for him to continue.
"Dexter showed up."
Deb pauses and decides to tread carefully. "He mentioned he was helping you surveil Zach."
Quinn continues as if Deb hadn't spoken. "I watched Zach enter the room. Then there was a long wait. Then I watched Dexter carry out a bunch of garbage bags. I checked the room, it was empty."
Deb worries her lip, fights the feeling of overwhelming nausea. "Maybe you fell asleep and Zach left."
"I didn't fall asleep Deb."
Deb sighs. "Just spit it out Quinn. What exactly do you want to say?" Her voice is hard.
Quinn finally turns, his eyes locking with Deb's. "I don't know what your brother did exactly, but it doesn't look good Deb. You have got to admit that."
"Like fuck I do! Jesus Fucking Christ Quinn! Do you have any idea how fucked up you sound right now? And I can't even fucking believe you would do this shit again. Remember when you investigated Dexter? Do I need to remind you that there was nothing to find?"
"There wasn't nothing!" Quinn raises his voice. "I know that Dexter had something to do with Arthur Mitchell. The Mitchell family was protecting him."
"You're fucking insane!" Deb's voice cracks over the words.
"Really? Really?! You tell me Deb. The last person to accuse Dexter of something was Maria LaGuerta. Seems awfully fucking convenient she ends up dead. Don't you think? I've heard stories, Deb. Apparently James Doakes wasn't too fond of Dexter either. And look what happened to him."
Deb's eyes widen, her voice drops dangerously. "This is my brother we're talking about."
Quinn pauses, reconsiders what this will do to Deb. But he can't ignore it. "You've been really fucked up lately Deb. Everyone keeps saying it was the pressure of being Lieutenant. And then Anderson and LaGuerta both died. But I've been wondering, if maybe it wasn't something else. Maybe when LaGuerta started getting close to Dexter he told you something. Maybe you didn't like what you heard."
Deb is glaring at him. She is so close to something, he's sure. "You came into the station to tell me something Deb. Why don't you tell me now?"
"Get the fuck out of my house." Deb growls.
"All I'm saying Deb, how much do you really know about your brother?" Quinn gives her one last look, walks past her and out the door.
Trembling, Deb's eyes find the picture of her and Dexter smiling. What the fuck will they do now?
"DexDexDexDexDex!" Deb jumped on his bed, startled him awake, and shook his shoulders excitedly.
Dexter groaned in return. "Deb" he moaned irritated.
"GET UP! IT'S CHRISTMAS!"
Dex suppressed the urge to kick his 7 year old sister off his bed and instead complied with her insistent request.
She drug him downstairs to look at the pile of presents under the tree and he waited patiently with her while their parents brought in the coffee and hot chocolate. After a bicycle, a baseball glove, three new sets of clothes each, some jewelry for mom and a toolset for dad, they were down to the last present. It sat, wrapped haphazardly in brown paper, Debra's name scrawled on it in sloppy writing.
Harry picked it up, gave Dexter a questioning look and got only a shrug in response. "Looks like Deb gets the last one." Dexter told him.
Harry handed it over and Deb looked at the packaging carefully. This one wasn't prettily wrapped like the rest were. There were no bows or ribbons, no color or shine. But she knew the handwriting and she smiled brightly enough to make up for it.
She tore into it eagerly finding a worn, but still soft velvet jewelry box. Popping open the top there was a thin silver chain nestled inside, a silver paw print pendant strung on it. Debra gasped in delight. She remembered seeing it months ago at the mall. Just after Harry had sent Banjo away, she had seen this pendant and told Dexter she would have liked to have it if they had kept the puppy.
"You remembered?" she asked Dexter in awe.
"I don't know what you're talking about. Just looks like Santa wanted to give you one more." Dexter shrugged, shyly looking down at the socks in his hand.
"Oh Debra, it's lovely." Doris helped her remove the chain from the box, fastened it around her neck.
Harry took a good look at it, knew it was some cheap trinket from the store, but also knew the thought and effort Dexter had to put into such a gift. He grinned, ruffled Dexter's hair affectionately.
When the living room was cleaned up and their parents were in the kitchen prepping dinner, Debra gave Dexter a big hug. "Thanks Dex." She told him quietly.
"I didn't-"
"Yeah, ok dummy. It's from Santa." She grinned at him, gently shoved his shoulder. "I love it."
"I'm glad."
"We have to leave Deb. It's time."
"And go where?" she challenges. "You want to spend the rest of our fucking lives on the run? What is that going to do to Harrison?"
"What is it going to do to Harrison when his father and aunt are arrested and thrown in jail?"
Deb sighs, presses her fingers against her forehead and tries really hard not to fall apart. "I don't know…" Deb's voice is strained.
Dexter's fingers wrap around her wrists, pull them away from her face. "I have everything we need. We can leave tonight."
Deb's face is incredulous. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Passports, money, credit cards. We'll drive out of Florida, catch a plane out of Atlanta. You just need to pack a bag."
"Passports?" Deb's voice is so soft that Dex only catches the question from watching her.
"Mills. Diane, Harry and David Mills. We can pick up-"
"Jesus fuck Dex. How long have you been planning this?"
Dexter pauses, takes a deep breath. "I've always been ready, in case. I just wasn't sure if you would come with me."
"Fuck…" Deb moves away from him, starts pacing. Dexter can practically see her jumbled thoughts.
He jumps up, hands grabbing ahold of her arms, pulling her close so she has to look him in the eye. "If we're leaving it has to be now. It has to be tonight." He tells her urgently.
"That's it?! You want me to just pick up everything and go? Leave behind everyone else and-"
"Who else matters Deb?" Dexter's voice is sharp. "Tell me honestly. Who else could possibly matter?"
She doesn't reply because she knows he is right. He is fully aware that she will always pick him. "Dex…"
"You said you were in love with me-"
"Fuck you!" Deb pushes him hard enough for him to lose his grip on her, stumble a few paces. "How dare you fucking use that against me." Deb's voice is hoarse, watery.
"I'm not using it against you. We can start a new life, Deb. We can be whoever we want to be. Nobody will ever know our past." Dex takes a cautious step forward.
"What are you saying?" Deb shakes her head. "Or is this you fucking with my head? Manipulating me into leaving with you."
"I can't go without you Deb." The confession dangles in the air between them. Deb stares at him with doubt. "Those months without you…I can't do that again. If I take Harrison and go…it won't be good for him. I need you."
Deb's heart is racing. She wants to believe him so badly, but she is terrified. Her fear and uncertainty are written on her face.
Then suddenly Dexter is kissing her. His hands hold her face as his lips and tongue coax her mouth open. It's startling and different than she expected. She doesn't quite know his true intentions, but she just doesn't care. She kisses him back, tangles her tongue with his.
He pulls away, breaking the kiss as abruptly as it started. "We need to go Deb."
Deb stares at him, eyes wide, lips still parted, her heart fighting with her mind. "We'll be together?" the question is more timid than she'd like.
"Always."
"Why are we even here?"
"Cody!" Astor tosses a scalding look at him.
"What?! It's not like she can even hear us." Cody whines. He moves in front of the still body, waves his hand in front of the face.
Astor grabs his wrist, pushes him away. "God! You're so immature!"
Cody twists his face at his sister, sulks into the nearby chair and stares at his incapacitated aunt.
Astor tucks Deb's hair behind her ear, sighs and sits back down next to her. "Sorry Aunt Deb."
Cody sighs. "I still don't understand what happened."
"Look, it wasn't her fault, ok? They said it was an accident."
"Yeah, well they were still dodgy about it."
Astor groans. "I don't know what happened. But she's still our family right? And Harrison's. When he's older we can bring him to visit."
"Again, why?! Look at her!"
"Shut up Cody!" Astor's chin trembles. "She could get better."
Cody scoffs in returns. "Unlikely."
Astor stares at Deb for moment, shakes her head sadly. "Still, we don't have much family left now…"
Cody pauses, watches his sister and can't help but feel sorry for all of them. "Yeah…you're right. It's good we came."
"Dad would be really proud." Dexter smiles, chases his steak with some beer.
Deb shakes her head. "It's just graduation from the academy. The same academy, may I remind you, that he didn't want me going to."
"Are you kidding? Dad would be ecstatic. He would have bought a round on the house to toast you."
Deb laughs. "Are you sure we're talking about the same man here?"
"You know what, if you don't believe me that's fine. How about this? I'm proud of you." Dexter lifts his bottle in salute.
Deb bites her lip, smiles and clinks her bottle against his. "Now that means something."
Dex's gaze shifts off to the side and for just a second a look of worry flits over his features. In the blink of an eye it's gone and Deb shakes it away from her thoughts. "Well bro, maybe we'll be working together someday. Soon as I make it into homicide." Deb nods confidently.
"Whoa. Big plans there hot shot." They laugh together as Deb shoves his shoulder playfully.
"I'm serious. I'm going to really make Dad proud. One day." Deb's smile falters, uncertainty raining on her parade.
But Dex sees it, reaches out and drums his fingers against the back of her hand. "You did make him proud. And you will."
"But you'll help?" Deb lifts her eyebrows hopefully.
"Not that you need it, but yeah. Us Morgans gotta stick together. I've got your back."
Deb nods. "Always."
Dexter smiles back, hopes that part will remain true.
"Daddy? Where are we going?"
"Um…" Dexter's eyes are trained on Deb's house. "Well we're gonna go on a little vacation. And if we like it, we might stay."
"But what about Jamie?" Dexter glances in his rearview mirror at his son's frowning face.
"Well remember how Jamie is about to graduate? And then she's got an exciting new job, so she won't be able to take care of you anymore. But you don't really need a nanny anymore because you're a big boy now."
"I guess…" Harrison looks at his monkey sadly.
"You know Jamie loves you right?"
"Yeah…"
Dexter turns in his seat so he can look at his son. "And Aunt Deb and I, we love you too. Always know that we love you so much."
Harrison smiles a bit. "I love you and Aunt Deb too."
Dexter grins. "Good. Now, I need to go check on Aunt Deb ok? So can you just stay here? Don't get out of the car, ok?"
"Promise."
Dexter nods, gets out of the car and heads towards Deb's house hoping the nagging feeling in his lizard brain is wrong.
But then he hears voices as he nears the back door.
"Fuck Deb! Will you just fucking talk to me?! I know he's your brother but-"
"There's no but Quinn! He's my brother. That doesn't mean there's anything for me to fucking know, ok? This theory is insane!"
"Then prove me wrong! Explain to me what the fuck he was doing in the Keys. And then maybe you can tell me why LaGuerta was so convinced of his guilt."
"I'm not fucking going through this with you. I have shit to do, so kindly get the fuck out of my house."
Dexter watches through the window as Quinn looks at Deb. He wants to charge at the detective, snap his neck and get Deb out of town. But he knows she would never forgive him for it. And leaving Quinn knocked out in Deb's house would only bring the manhunt on sooner.
Quinn and Deb are in a deadlock, neither willing to give an inch, both wondering how far they are willing to go to bring this to an end. Quinn acts first.
"You keep talking about what a good cop Maria was. How she was a good person. She was our captain, Deb. Don't we owe her the truth?" Quinn speaks quietly, hoping he can finally break through to Deb.
"You want the truth?" Deb challenges. Her voice quivers but her resolve holds. "I've already told you the truth, Quinn."
Quinn squints at her, shakes his head. "Just tell me the truth about Dexter. I think you know. I can protect you. You shouldn't have to go down with him. I know how close you two are. I don't blame you for covering for him-"
"It's not him I'm covering for." Deb gives Quinn a hard stare, but he backs off, his eyes flicking away.
"You want the truth, Quinn?" Deb moves closer. Quinn brings his gaze back to her, shakes his head, his eyes pleading with her not to say it.
"I'm the one who shot LaGuerta."
Quinn stumbles back a few steps, blows a gust of air through his lips. "You're lying."
"You wanted the fucking truth." Deb returns.
"You did it for him. You did it to protect Dexter. You killed LaGuerta to protect a fucking serial killer." Quinn spits out.
Deb finally breaks his gaze, sits down on her couch. "Just go Joey. You don't have any fucking proof of anything, so just go."
"You're gonna warn him." It's not a question as Quinn looks down at her. Deb can't decide if it's a look of pity or disgust. Deb just shrugs in return.
"So what happens when I get my proof? You gonna kill me too?" Quinn pushes.
"Turns out I'm no better than the scum I've been chasing all this time." Deb taunts, her eyes welling in regret.
Quinn squats down in front of her, covers her hand with his own. "It's not too late to do the right thing. You're a good person."
Deb looks down at him, wishes that he could be right about this. "I'm sorry Joey."
"No, I can't accept that." Quinn resolves. "You aren't that person. You've made mistakes, there's still a chance to make up for it."
He is so sure Deb almost believes him. Then the movement outside catches her eye and she looks up, sees Dexter framed in her window and knows how wrong Quinn is. Because no matter how good of a person she wants to be, how good she can be, there is something far more important; Dexter.
Quinn's gaze follows her and he stands, his hand moving to his service weapon as his eyes fall upon the man in question.
"You have to go Joey." Deb's voice is an urgent whisper just behind him.
"Fuck that, I'm not leaving."
Dexter slides in through the back door, his open palms face Quinn and he puts on his best defenseless face. "Deb." Though he addresses his sister, his eyes are trained on Quinn. "We should get going. Do you have what you need?"
Deb sees the tactic, Dexter's desire to get her out of the room, but she stands her ground. "I'm not leaving the two of you alone."
Quinn's hand still rests on his gun. "Well, looks like we're all stuck here, 'cause I'm not going anywhere." He holds Dexter's eye and smirks. "Turns out I was right about you all along."
Dexter tucks his hands into his pockets, shrugs his shoulder nonchalantly. "I thought we'd always had an understanding."
"Fuck." Quinn derides. "If I knew then what I know now..."
"You'd be locked in a jail cell." Dexter's face darkens. "Or maybe you would have really gotten to know me."
Deb gasps, the sound draws Dexter's eyes to her and he reels it all back, tries to keep himself in check. He must remind himself that killing Quinn would be an exceedingly bad idea.
Dex takes a deep breath, tries to find another way around. "Deb is right, ya know. You don't have anything in the way of proof. So why don't you just back off?"
Quinn shakes his head, gives Dexter a lopsided grin. "I get it now. You've talked her into running off with you. Probably taking your innocent kid along for the ride. Haven't you done enough damage?"
Dexter had enough, he lunged at Quinn, taking the other man off guard and tackling him to the ground, his gun spinning away. Deb grabbed her gun from the top of the bag she had been packing and pointed it at the two men. "ENOUGH!"
The strength of her voice gets their attention. Both stop, pull away from each other and slowly get to their feet. With them separated, Deb doesn't know where to aim her gun and wavers uncertainly between the two.
Quinn eyes her carefully. "Deb, don't do anything hasty."
Deb laughs, really laughs her hand drooping to her side. "This is so completely fucked! Why is this happening again?!" She sobers suddenly, bringing the gun to rest in both of her hands so she can look down and study its profile. "I can't do this shit anymore. There's gotta be a better fucking option."
She looks up at Dexter, smiles softly. "Dex?"
Dexter returns an apprehensive look. "We just need to stay together. We can do anything if we're together."
Deb nods in return, but her brow is still wrinkled in uncertainty. Dexter tries again, his stomach twisting at the look on her face. "Deb, I love you."
She smiles, more assuredly this time. "I love you too."
Dexter watches as she raises the gun, but the barrel is pointing back towards her. The twist in his stomach knots harshly, "NO!" Dexter lunges forward, turns Debra's arm to point the gun away.
It's pointing at his chest when it goes off. For a moment after, the silence is deafening. Dexter's eyes are still latched onto Deb's, but the bullet has pierced his aorta, he's bleeding out fast. "Deb..." he manages one last time before he slumps into her arms.
The sound Deb makes isn't one that Quinn can give a name to. It doesn't sound human anymore as she howls in pain. He watches both of them crumble to the floor, the blood spilling over her, her tears falling into it. He stands helplessly and watches her fall apart.
The nurses are busy with their routine, changing Deb's gown and arranging her carefully into her usual chair, facing the window. The younger one kneels down, stares into Deb's eyes as she affixes the discolored chain around her neck.
"Honey, I don't know why you're wasting your time on that." The older admonishes gently.
"It just seemed important to her. She was clutching it so tightly when they brought her in. It's sad; a once decorated police officer and now look at her. She's still so young."
"You'll learn eventually to not be so soft."
The younger one takes another curious look at Deb. "I just wonder what's going on in there. What she thinks about."
"Honey, you're never going to know. So just give it up." The older nurse holds open the door, ushers the younger one out with a wave of her hand, leaving Deb alone in her room.
The light from the window catches the tarnished silver paw print pendant which sits at Deb's throat. Deb's glazed eyes continue to stare unfocused out the window. But the sunlight she sees isn't streaming into her hospital room.
She's walking down a beach, her eyes focused on a little boy with blonde hair and the man that's with him. The boy waves his hand, smiles and calls her over.
When she reaches the man he holds his hand out to her, grips onto hers tightly, pulls her into a tight embrace. "See Deb?" he whispers in her ear. "I never left. We'll always be together."
"So I'll scream till I die and the last of those bad thoughts are finally out"