Kill the Messenger
A Bates Motel Fanfiction
Summary: Unable to keep his secret any longer, Dylan tells Emma what he knows regarding her mother's disappearance. Determined to uncover the truth, they pay a visit to Bates Motel to get answers from Norman, but will they find what they are looking for? Imagining of season five. Dylemma. Major character death.
/!\ Warnings: Mild language, sensuality, and major character death. One scene in chapter four contains intense violence that may disturbing to some readers.
Disclaimer: We own nothing!
A/N: We apologize for any spelling/grammatical errors in advance. We have yet to watch season five and are refraining from watching until this story is completed so it will not influence the course of this story.
Chapter One
Norman killed her.
The thought bulked large in his mind, an anchor to his heart and soul.
She'll laugh when I tell her. If he hadn't known better Dylan would, too. Norman Bates was linked to Aubrey Decody's disappearance. How deeply and in what ways, he couldn't say, but a hunch told him more than he cared to know.
Will she ever forgive me?
"Hey."
His eyes snapped open, heart aflutter. Clearing his throat, Dylan shifted, his features settling into a deadpan. "Hey, Emma. You, uh, scared me."
"Sorry." She plopped onto him, eyes and smile blazing. "How about I make it up to you..." Her lips tantalized him to kiss them, "Later." Before Dylan could, Emma slid off his lap, hooking a dark lock behind her ear that adamantly refused to stay. He grunted, angry she tempted him, angrier at himself for letting her. "Don't want Dad walking in on us." Privacy still eluded them on the outskirts of Seattle. "What are you doing?"
He stopped rocking the bench. "Nothing. Just thinking."
Emma smirked, propping her elbow on the armrest and her chin on the heel of her hand. "About what?"
Dylan sighed. How could he implicate his brother in Emma's estranged mother's disappearance? Cold feet thwarted him each time he tried broaching the subject.
"Do you miss home? Is that it?"
If only it was that simple. "Actually, I do miss it..." White Pine Bay was 'home' in its loosest, most rudimentary connotation. "But because I got used to it, you know? Change can be scary sometimes."
"Of course it can." Emma clasped his hand and Dylan squeezed back, brushing his thumb over and marveling the strength belying her dainty fingers. "Dylan, I'm so sorry. I was selfish asking you to come here with me and my dad. I -"
Dylan held a finger to her lips. "Emma, stop." He hated when she accepted faults that weren't hers. "I wanted to come here. I knew what I was doing when I moved out of White Pine Bay; I left on my own accord. It's hard, but I don't regret it at all. Home is wherever you are." He cringed inwardly at the words: sappy but sincere.
"Thanks. You're a rare breed, Dylan. I'm lucky to have you."
"Ditto." Damn it. He bit his lip. He thought he could spare her from a lifetime of heartache, but who was he fooling?
"Emma, I need to tell you something."
She frowned. "What's wrong?" He's breaking up with me. Cystic fibrosis lied in her genes, not her chest; the lung transplant was a stopgap, not a cure. Dylan should escape while he can...before they both got in too deep.
Too late for that.
"I'm not leaving, Emma. I love you."
She released a bated breath. "I love you, too. What's wrong?"
He licked his lips, mustering courage. "I need to tell you something about your mom."
Emma stiffened. Mom. Aubrey did not merit the title. "You mean mother - as in 'the woman who gave birth to me.'" If her mother cared, she would have never deserted her or her dad. "What about her?"
Dylan sighed. "I hate to be the harbinger of bad news but I...I thinkNormankilledher." He forced the rest of his sentence out before he could regret it.
Emma stared wide-eyed, mouth agape. "W-What?"
"I think your mom stayed at the motel after your dad told her to leave the hospital the day of your surgery."
"You think Norman killed my mom?"
"I don't know for sure. But when I reviewed the logs, I saw she checked in, but never out..." His silence spoke for him.
"So?" Emma stood, swathing her cardigan around her as she stood and paced the floor. "You know my mom. She was practically a nomad. She leaves without telling anyone, like how she did with me and my dad."
"What about her cell? Don't you find it weird it was shut off?"
She faced him, arms akimbo, equipped with an arsenal of alibis. "No, I don't. She didn't keep up with her bills; the phone company probably deactivated it when she stopped making payments."
"There's more. I was in Norman's room and I found a letter from your Mom in his nightstand drawer. She really wanted to see you, Emma, but because of your dad...I think she may have asked Norma or Norman to deliver the letter for her, but, for whatever reason, it never got to you."
Emma thrust out her hand. "Let me see it."
Dylan burrowed his hands into his pockets and gazed at his battered Timberlands. "I don't have it." He winced, the words crippling his credibility.
She crossed her arms. "How do I know you're not lying to me?"
"Why would I about this, Emma?" His voice grew taut with indignation. "Do you think I'm saying this to deliberately hurt you?"
"I don't know - you tell me!"
Dylan's equanimity started slipping. "I don't have the letter because I didn't want Norman to notice it was gone. Then he would know that I knew."
She scoffed. "This is ridiculous! I can't - I don't believe you. I know Norman has issues, but you actually think he would kill someone? My own mother? He wouldn't harm a fly!"
"I know you're in denial, Emma, but you don't know Norman like I do. He's unstable...he has black outs and doesn't remember what he does during them. I was pissed when I found out Norma let him leave Pineview. He shouldn't be out in society - not until he gets help. But he's too deep in denial to realize how sick he is." His words didn't efface the skepticism on her face. "There was something else besides the letter." As an afterthought, he added, "I saw a stuffed rabbit from your Mom. It was one of your favorite toys as a child, right?"
Emma nodded, grudging him the point. "It was. How did it end up in Norman's room?"
"I told you - your mom was a guest at the motel. She must have ran into Norman and something happened."
She brushed past him and wrenched the door open. "I don't feel very well. I'm going to lie down." When Dylan moved to follow, she whipped around and raised her hand - palm outward, fingers splayed - repelling him. "Alone."
A/N: Thanks for reading! Chapter 2 is coming next week. Please let us know what you think. Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated!
