A\N Maybe, I'm a little late to the party, but I just binge watched the last season's of Dexter and I needed to know what happened after the series finale. I hope a couple of you can enjoy. Obviously, I own nothing! ;)

She had read, reread and re-reread the words she had skimmed over at the café. She read them over and over again, because maybe, if she read them enough times they'd magically change before her eyes, or disappear, or something, anything. But they didn't, they wouldn't and every time she looked at the picture, it hit her like the ton of bricks it was. The article, the words, printed black on white, surely they weren't right, they couldn't be.

Because they were supposed to have the happy ending, supposed to be together. Maybe it had been foolish to think that they could, that they would, but she had. She had let herself believe she could be happy, despite who she was, who she was with, despite what she'd done, what he'd done. She had believed it. She had believed it when she shouldn't have. He was supposed to be here. Dexter was supposed to join them, in Argentina, he was supposed to be with them, not lie in the bottom of the ocean with all of the bodies he had dumped.

She firmly grabbed the edges of the sink with both hands; it wasn't supposed to happen like this. In the privacy of her bathroom, Hannah finally surrendered, to the sadness, the confusion, the anger. She let the tears stream down her cheeks, the emotions flowing out of her as her chest expanded in uneven breaths. She wanted to scream, scream at the top of her lungs, but tears would have to be enough, for now.

There was a shy knock on the door, "Hannah?"

She rolled her eyes up, biting her lower lip and forcing a few slow breaths through her nose, "I'll be out in a minute, Harrison," she managed to call out in voice that hardly cracked.

She couldn't do this alone, here in Argentina. He was supposed to come meet them, he was supposed to help. They were supposed to be together, supposed to start over, have the life she'd always wanted.

He was supposed to be it, her happily ever after, or whatever the adult version of happily ever after was.

But, he was dead, drove through a fucking hurricane, and the only person she'd ever felt, ever feel, comfortable enough to be who she really was with, was gone.

And now, she needed to find a way to tell Harrison, tell him that his father wasn't coming back.

Ever.

And she didn't know if she could.

They wouldn't shut up, wouldn't leave him alone. He had gotten used to the silence surrounding him, to the solitude, but the voices in his head just wouldn't shut up and every day he pretended not to hear them, pretended not to remember who he was, what he'd caused, who he'd lost. It was almost 4 months later that she appeared, actually materialized herself in front of him.

He had gotten up at dawn, as usual, and went to the sink to splash some ice cold water on his face. Popping his head back up, he saw her, staring at him through the cracked mirror.

She looked around and smiled sarcastically, "Nice fucking, cabin you've got there, Dex. Argentina's sure as hell not what I thought it would be."

He closed his eyes, breathed in a couple of times and opened them up again, and she was gone, as easily as that.

Silently, he went over to the oven, putting a pot on to boil, adding some water and oats, stirring the mixture with a wooden spoon. His breakfast had been a la Oliver Twist lately, not that he deserved any better. He jerked back when he saw her, leaning on the worn out desk he used as dining room table. Not even bothering to transfer his food in a bowl, he sat down beside his sister and started eating.

Chuckling, she added, "Porridge? Kind of new at this. But I am in the right fucking century, right? When's the last time you've had a steak?"

Bringing the spoon to his mouth, he asked mouth full, "What are you doing here, Deb?"

She laughed, "You know, I'm not really here, fucktard. But you are." She made a disgusted grin, "Seriously, what are you doing in this hell hole?"

"Just go, Deb."

She laughed again, "Go? I'm your damn conscience, a fucking ghost. I'm not going anywhere. I can do whatever I fucking feel like," she said as she roamed around, looking at the little of personal items he had, "Cozy little life you have there, big bro, fucking happy I ain't here to see that."

"I'm fine," he said as he dumped the pot in the sink, not bothering to wash it.

"You used to be a clean monster, fucking neurotic even," she stated, looking into the sink, "Dexter I knew wouldn't have let that sit there for a second."

"Yeah, well, that Dexter's gone. I have to go work."

"Yeah, go do that. Go cut some fucking wood. Do that, while your son's somewhere, thinking you're dead, being raised by a serial killer on the run in Argen-fucking-tina. Nice move dumping him on her by the way. That's really love, asshat."

"They're both better off without me. I destroy everything I love, leaving a trail of bodies behind, and me, I'm fucking indestructible. I drive through a hurricane and still come back on top."

"And who's going to explain the monsters, huh?"

"Hannah's going to be a great mother to Harrison. There is no doubt about that in my head. She loves him as much as I do, and he loves her. He doesn't need me. They're safer without me. This," his gaze moved around the room, "I'm doing this for them."

"That's bullshit, Dex. You don't even know where they are, don't even know they're safe; Elway can be a persistent son of a bitch. Your son and the woman you claimed to love, the woman you fucking made me compromise everything I believe for… again, you don't even have a fucking clue how they are. And you're here cutting wood or transporting wood or… I have no idea what you're actually doing, but seriously? You were once the infamous Bay Harbor Butcher, now you're here murdering... wood? What-the-fuck?"

"Dexter Morgan died with you, he died in the hospital, he died on the boat, and he died again driving through Laura. He's dead and now, I'm just this shell of a man. This shell that just won't die."

"You're an asshole, Dexter. Because I'm dead, but you're not, so stop pretending like you are. I can't feel, I can't love, but you can. You still think about them, that's how you know you're not dead. Every time you catch yourself wondering what they're doing, there's your proof you're human, and as much as you want to, you'll never be able to shut it off. It's too late."

"I was doing a pretty banged up job, before you showed up."

"Like hell you were."

He sat back down, "It hurts so fucking much, Deb."

"Welcome to fucking planet Earth, Dex. You wanted to love; you have to be prepared to be heartbroken. Shit happens and it takes the crap out of you. Just because you've never felt it before doesn't mean you can't get over it. People deal with shit every single day, so can you. Now you get back up and you go be happy again."

"Deb, I can't."

"Fucking snap out of it," she screamed, "I told her to take care of you guys, told Hannah, but now I'm telling you. You have to take care of them, Dex. If you think its noble and all, it's not. There's still time for you. Go, fucking be happy before I find a way to really come back and shove my foot down your ass," she said nodding before heading towards the door.

She smiled in his direction, shooting him a, "And the beard, shitloads of awful, Dex." She shook her head, shivering as she added, "Euh. It really has to go."

"Deb?"

She turned around at the arch of the door, her hand rested on the frame, and he added, "I'm sorry, Deb. I'm really sorry."

"I know," she smiled, and just like that, she was gone.

He stood still for a moment, unsure what his next move should be. He breathed in, grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

He needed to go to work.

A faint noise made her slowly open her eyes, shifting her position in the bed, she saw him, standing beside her bed, holding his monkey tightly.

A quiver in his voice he asked tentatively, "Mom?"

She lifted her head from the pillow and asked gently, "What is, honey? You have another nightmare?"

Harrison sniffled, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand as he nodded.

She smiled gently, patting the empty space on the bed beside her, "Come on up."

Hannah sat up in the bed, opening up her arms so he could cuddle as close as he wanted to. He wrapped his arms around her stomach, his head nested on her chest. She rubbed soothing circles on his back, "It was only a dream, sweetie. It's over now." She kissed the top of his head, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

He mumbled, still holding on tightly to the woman he now called mom, "It was the dragon."

She sighed, kissing his head again and running her finger through his light hair, the dragon was a recurring one. He continued, "We were in a tower, there were lots of steps to climb. There was fire, but we had our fire-fighter helmets, so we ran. There were monkeys and tigers showing us the way, but they were nice. Everyone got the top, we almost had it. Then the dragon took Aunt Deb and he took daddy, then he took Dan and he took you too."

He looked up, tears streaming on his cheeks, "And I was all alone."

Her heart broke at the words, as she felt his grip tighten around her, "Oh baby, it's okay. I'm still here; I'm not going anywhere."

She hummed and rubbed his back until his whimpers had faded, and finally when she thought that he had fallen asleep, she gently laid him down on the pillow beside her, "Sweet dreams," she whispered.

Not opening his eyes, he exhaled as he mumbled, "I really miss Daddy."

"So do I, sweetie. So do I," she added as she gently kissed his forehead.

Thoughts?