thanks: surreallis, who rocks my socks and really helped me with this; princessklutz04 for being my dexter buddy from day one.
The worst of it was that when she first caught his eye, all she could think of was his hips. His hips between her knees as she deliberately teased him, brushed her breasts across his chest, kissed his lips. God damn, when she saw him her chest ached and for the briefest of moments she felt empty and hollow and longed to feel his palm pressed against her breastbone.
Looking at him, she remembered that he knew everything about her, that for perhaps the first time in her life there was someone that she hadn't hid from. That she didn't feel the need to hide from. As emotionally available as she had learned to become in the past few years, it was Frank who expanded her heart beyond cubbyhole status, made it feel lived in, and not just storage for passersby.
The Miami night was purple fading to gray, the sun long having meandered across the horizon to the West, seeking a few more hours to shine. For once, the wind was cool, carrying with it traces of moisture that maneuvered between the strands of her hair, clung to her skin. The chill that rushed off of the Atlantic was sudden and razed across her bare skin, triggered goosebumps in its wake. All she could do, save for retreat to her car was hold herself and so she did, hands fastened to the quick around her biceps, her nails digging solidly into the fabric of her shirt.
The wind ruffled her hair and for a moment, she turned her face into it, thinking of a phantom caress, of a hand she was sure she could never let touch her again; in her pocket, her cell phone vibrated, surely another text from Anton, though she didn't bother to look. Exorcising demons manifested as old love took time, and she was determined to work some of it out, rationalize the feelings she still held for Ex-Special Agent Frank Lundy completely away. There was a yearning deep inside of her, a wish that the ocean would swallow her, wash her sins away, her thoughts of infidelity.
Yes, the worst of it was that she remembered it all, how she felt when she was with him. She recalled every instance that he'd made her feel whole, made her feel unstoppable, brave, loved. He'd made her feel and it was more than anyone had given her before. The entire reason she was able to care for Anton was that she'd managed to tear down the proverbial walls that she's fastened around herself for so long. Her current happiness, she owed that to Frank and it made her crazy. And confused.
It didn't seem fair that he would reappear in her life now, and though she knew that he had no control over it-didn't choose this particular moment with her relationship status in mind-Deb still needed to blame him. If she blamed him, well, things would be easier.
Her shoes scuffed over the rough wood of the boardwalk, and it was all too easy to imagine jagged slivers of wood fracturing off to dig into the soles of her sneakers. Repentance, an inanimate attempt to punish her for allowing herself so be so damned fickle of mind. Deb kicked the toe of her right foot off of an uneven plank and though she expected the pain, when it surfaced, she couldn't help but mutter an emphatic, "Fuck!"
Spinning, her hands clenched the cool metal railing and she stared down into the choppy water; why did this have to happen now? Why did any of this have to happen in the god damned first place? "Fuck," came muttered low, under her breath.
With her head down, she didn't hear the footsteps pace up behind her; but then she felt the gaze on her back and snapped to attention, swung her body around as her hand went instinctively to her waist where, normally, her gun would be holstered. Not tonight.
His face was tender, kind when he spoke, standing far enough away as not to seem a pressure. "What are you doing over here, Deborah?" That; the way he said her name, drew it out and shaped it on his tongue, said it like she had always imagined it was meant to be said. Made it just for him; god, she adored that.
Again, she wrapped her arms back around herself and held tight, as though reinforcing her will to deny him of the hold that he still claimed. For the briefest of seconds, she searched his face and saw everything and nothing and wanted to cry. Why did it all happen at once and why did it have to be so damned hard? "I... don't fucking know," she said, bitter smile on her face. "What are you doing here?" It was said like he didn't belong there and she didn't know whether she was asking about the pier or the city or the fucking state. Why was he anywhere in her radius? Maybe if he could explain it to her...
Frank sidled up next to her, settled his elbows against the railing; she was slow to turn in the same direction, instead taking long moments staring into the distance, attempting to settle her nerves. As her eyes stared up and made out the shadows on the surface of the mood, Deb realized that she could smell him, smell him. Quickly, angry at herself, she swallowed a sob.
It was as if he'd sensed that her inner turmoil was about to break free and he broke the silence, assuaging the situation as he was so good at doing. His thumb gestured over his shoulder at the street vendor. "Best burritos I've found down here," then came the smile as he looked back at her, "I was hungry."
Deb turned and looked down at the ground, her eyes holding on the rough wood, "Ah, and you just happened to find me?"
When the laugh broke from his throat, it frightened her and her body found itself unfurling, her arms pulling away from her sides. Deb found herself leaning into him but righted herself almost immediately, mirroring the posture he held against the metal. "Well, it was your choice expletive that caught my attention." A quick sigh passed his lips and he moved over briefly to bump her shoulder with his. "Mouth like a sailor, as always; good to know things haven't changed." The way he claimed the last words were wistful, as though he'd missed her speaking those choice expletives, like he was happy to be talking to her.
And of course he was.
There was an endless in between right there; if either one of them stepped over into it, Deb feared she'd be lost forever. She sought the moon's reflection on the water with her gaze when she said, "A lot has changed. A lot." The sound of passersby echoed behind them, the lapping of the water against the wood and concrete kept her attention on the ocean while she waited for him to interpret what she'd said however he liked.
There was nothing veiled or vague about his answer, though and that threw her for a damned loop. "I know. I know you have, I... have not." There was a barely-detectable hint of smile on his lips and she hated that she could read him like that, hated that she knew what it meant.
Breathless, she laughed, self-deprecating and chuffed out, "Yeah, well, retirement's a big step, huh?"
He faced her then, maneuvering so that only his left elbow remained against the rail. "That's not what I-"
"I know that's not what you meant!" she bit back and allowed her head to fall into her hands. "I just... don't know how to... not fuck around over this, you know?" Shaking her head, Deb bit out a laugh and turned to look at him. "It's kinda hard for me to look at you and pretend like everything is different." After a beat, "It isn't, you know." The wind picked up for a moment and roared in their ears; her hair blew across her eyes and she took that as a moment to compose herself. "I mean," her voice was rough and was pulled away by the gust. "You know that, right?"
Licking his lips, he smiled and dipped his head, a bit more vulnerable than she was used to seeing him. At least, she thought, at least this is as hard for him as it is for me. Masochistic thoughts filtered through her head, as to what she could say to cause him the pain that he'd managed to cause her once, but she couldn't make the words come. At least, at least they were both hurting; at least they both knew this was hard. At least they were in it together. Biting her tongue hard, she thought about what she'd said to him at lunch, how caustic she'd been, how unprepared he was to take the blow of her words. "About what I said at lunch-"
"It was deserved," Frank claimed, his voice holding some of the passion he was prone to. This was what haunted her, wanting to hear his voice intone the way it was; just how fucking much she missed his voice. "You've always been so determined, dedicated..."
"Yeah, well, I know what I want." The words didn't trip up in her throat like she thought they might, and so they landed with more impact than intended. "Wanted." There was no point in apologizing to him, though; he was the one person she honestly felt she didn't need to apologize to. He was the one person she didn't see accepting an apology from her. And yet she found herself saying, "And I'm sorry about tonight. That was... I was... I was an ass, and shouldn't have, you know."
His response was a shrug, but a sad one; his shoulders slumped and he too hung his head, giving in to whatever she had in store. "It's just... Frank you, I mean you kinda made me think of forever and then it was over and now you're back. It's confusing."
"I... it is for me as well, but... we'll get through it." He supposed, "It's something we have to do."
It should have made her mad, steaming that he'd supposed that she was in this as thick as he was, that she had to do anything at all. A minute passed in total silence, as he remained still without so much as a shiver coursing over his skin; she rocked, from the ball of her foot to the heel, never in stasis, 'always going' as he would say. "Damn it!" she shouted, taking her head into her hands, "Damn it." She followed once more, quieter this time and looked at him.
"You're so..." his voice dipped and his hand twitched and for a moment she thought he would touch her face, and if he did, all bets were off; fuck that, no, nothing had changed. She'd cradle her head there, step into him and Anton would become a distant memory, something to be dealt with later. "Loud," he finished on a smile and took a step back.
In that moment, she realized that no, nothing had changed. The smile he gave her was charming and quirky and all she wanted to do was-fuck-was kiss it right the hell off of him. But she wasn't that person anymore, she couldn't be that person anymore, or that's what she was determined to keep telling herself. In her pocket, her phone buzzed again and this time she looked down at it, knowing instinctively who it was.
She had somewhere to be. She had somewhere she had to be.
Loud, he'd said. She could be deafening if she chose to be; for a last, brief second, Deb wondered how he actually heard her. If she was background noise, or a yell.
Loud...
Back-pedaling towards the asphalt, she claimed in a calm, clear voice, "Nothing new there."