She comes to my door like clockwork, four times a week. She won't speak. She won't even look me in the eye until we're naked and our bodies are joined. That moment when I enter her is the only time I recognize her. The spark comes back to her eyes, her soul is laid open and bare and I know that this is my Deb.

I do what I can. I want to hear her moan. I want to know that she's alive, that she wants to be here with me. But for her this is a punishment. She doesn't come here for me. She doesn't do this for her pleasure. She does it to feel something. Because this is the only time when she isn't numb. And when she isn't numb she can feel her pain. She can exorcise her sins. She can feel like a monster with the only other monster she knows.

She is on top as usual. She pushes onto me hard. Her nails dig into my chest. Her eyes never leave mine. When it's done she rolls off of me and away. She can no longer look at me. I study the curve of her spine, the way each vertebrae pushes against her skin. She has become scarily thin.

"Deb" I say quietly, low. It's enough to launch her upright and onto the edge of the bed, the bed sheet pooling around her lap.

She shudders when my hand brushes her bare back and her reaction makes me recoil. It's these moments that prove to me that I am what's wrong.

I watch as she gets up, finds her scattered clothes and starts dressing with her back to me.

"Are you going to talk to me?" I sound as helpless as I feel. Deb was right, I can't control everything and that fact makes me finally understand fear.

She pauses, glances backwards in my direction, but stops short of looking at me.

"Now's not the time." Her voice is husky and hollow.

"Then when is?" I can hear the demand in my voice and I get up, finding my pants and putting them on as she finishes dressing.

"You won't talk to me at work. You won't even look in my direction. How am I supposed to know if you're ok?" She still won't turn and face me as I follow her out of the bedroom.

I stand behind her and watch her hand hover over the car keys sitting on the kitchen counter. I am fixated on her neck, thinking back to the first night weeks ago. The night of LaGuerta's death.


Once the weeping had stopped she was eerily quiet. She followed my directions without argument as we arranged the bodies and cleaned up the mess. We were lucky it was through and through, I don't know what we would have done if Debra's bullet had been found in LaGuerta.

We barely made it back to the party in time, but we made sure we were seen. Deb's face was stone and if everyone hadn't already been shit faced it would have been a problem. Her tight grip on my hand was my only reassurance. By one I had scooped up Harrison and we were in the car, heading back to my condo. I knew without asking that Debra could not be alone tonight.

She followed me like a shadow through the door and was still immobile when I returned from tucking Harrison into bed. Her head was bowed, her hair half obscuring her face and my heart jumped. There were moments when Deb's beauty would strike me, and this was one of them.

I stood awkwardly and waited for some sign of what she wanted. She slowly lifted her face and looked at me and I could feel a thousand things pass between us in that one breath. She was the one I've known as long as I can remember. We have endured, despite all my fuckery.

Her eyes still held mine when she reached for the straps of her dress and pushed them off her shoulders. I watched as her half naked body moved towards the bedroom. When she stopped at the doorway and looked at me I followed her in. The force was like a magnet. I couldn't stay away if I tried.

That was the first night it happened. And just like each one since then, when she was done she moved away from me. I didn't know what the appropriate response was. I was pretty sure one didn't exist. She got up from the bed eventually and spent most of the rest of the night in the bathroom. I moved near the door and fell asleep listening to her sobs coming from the tiled floor. In the morning she was gone.


The keys scraping against the counter bring me back to the present. The growl escapes my throat before I can stop it. Deb straightens, startled.

I feel the rage building in my belly. The anger is comforting. I'm sick of suppressing it, hiding it from Deb. I'm tired of this two dimensional imitation of my sister. I want my Deb back. The one who is emotional, loud, swears ceaselessly.

"WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!" I'm spilling forth, the words overflowing from my tongue. Everything that has burdened me since Deb turned to stone. "Where is Debra Fucking Morgan? You can't fucking leave me here. Can't you see I love you? I need you."

I drop to my knees in front of her spent, my arms circling her limbs. The fight has gone out of me and as usual I don't know what to say.

I cling to Debra's legs feeling like a small child. My vision is blurring and it takes a moment for me to realize that I must be crying. I don't think I've done that in a long while. I pull back and stare up at her, but her face is a mask. I don't see love and I don't see hate. It is the same look she has given me for weeks now. I want to howl into the night.

"Please" I hear myself whisper. But it doesn't sound right.

She is still unmoved and I finally let go. I sit back on my heels and wait for something else to break. I've already given more than I thought I could. It could have been seconds or hours, I can't tell the difference anymore, but she steps back. She hesitates and I can see the confusion etched into her brow. But then her hand is on the doorknob and the door is swiftly opened and closed and I am alone once again. Haven't I been all this time?