Be Careful What You Wish For
This is a Dexter Fan Fiction story with a Twilight Zone twist
I own nothing of Dexter or Twilight Zone
This is purely fan fiction
This story is post season 3 for Dexter
and
Inside Twilight Zone's Fifth Dimension,
The Mind
Mike
Miami is a great city as long as you can put up with the heat and the humidity. The bad weather is really only during the summer as far as I'm concerned, though. The rest of the year is okay by me. I used to live in Southern California until I was transferred to Miami four years ago. My job moved so I moved. Man, how many times have I heard that one? No complaints though. I've been exploring Miami since I relocated here and haven't run out of places to visit yet. I am a single 61 year old man and have the time and money to indulge myself.
My job is in the lighting business. Okay, let me hear you say it, "Very Illuminating!" Nice one! Actually, I have a slightly different and dimmer view of the lighting business. Nice one! We manufacture lighting fixtures and my angle in all of this is to assist professionals in making the correct choice of lighting for the application.
I use a computer based analysis program and provide my services to those that ask. I provide technical printouts and impressive renderings for the viewer to view. We have a website, and our entire catalog is right there with all the supporting technical jazz you would ever need. I can figure it all out. The professional looks smart because of me. That makes me pretty much of a computer geek while others take the credit and get their stories published about their great designs in all of the lighting industry magazines.
We sell lighting fixtures and everyone is happy, but somewhere along the way, I get left out. Not that I could really do anything else, you see, but sometimes I would like a little credit too. So, I have a secret. Yes, me. I pretend to be a serial killer. Just pretend, now; I have my moments when I read one of those articles and I just want to, well, how do I say this politely? I want to kill someone. There, I said it. My secret is out. You have no idea how good that feels to say that! I want to kill someone! I said it again. I wish, I wish……..
Mike, the Pretend Miami Serial Killer--it should be made into a TV show. Wait, it already is, Dexter. I love that show. That's where I got the idea from to be a pretend serial killer. I wish I could meet the cast, especially Michael C. Hall, the star that portrays Dexter. He's such a good actor. He nails that part perfectly. Dexter is a very complicated character, and MCH handles it so well. Maybe someday I will get the chance to meet him and the rest of the cast. They film so much of the show here, and I've tried to figure out where they might shoot, but so far no luck. But it does keep me busy looking and exploring Miami.
It's Sunday night, so Dexter will be on at 9:00 on Showtime. I always record the shows on my DVR. I go on the Dexter website too, and read all about what others think about the last episode and post my own thoughts there too. I've met some good people on line. I started writing short stories because of Dexter. There is another site called fanfiction-dot-net and there are stories about Dexter there, as well as many other TV shows, books and movies. I've met some good folks from there too. I've written four stories so far with another in the works, all about Dexter and Rita too, his girlfriend. It's been a good release for me, my new hobby.
I've got my TV on, my computer on, my phone turned off (not that anyone ever calls), and I'm ready for Dexter. There is a thunder and lightning storm tonight. I hope the power stays on. I wouldn't want to miss Dexter, but just in case, I have my flashlight and some candles with my matches. Last but not least, my cat Keekee is here too. She always watches Dexter with me. Maybe she knows something I don't know? Right... Well, I have to go for now so I can watch my show. I'll be back in an hour.
Dexter Morgan
Miami is a great city as long as you can put up with the heat and the humidity. The bad weather is really only during the summer as far as I'm concerned though. What? Where did that thought come from? Must be one of those days. I've received other people's thoughts! I think I'll swing by my favorite restaurant to pick up a pork sandwich on the way back to the apartment. That and my slides will get me back to normal. Normal. That's good, better than good. My normal day is spent helping to solve murders. My normal night is spent, murdering, Yin and Yang, in perfect harmony.
So, I have a secret. Yes, me. I pretend to be a serial killer. What? Where did that come from? Am I receiving other people's thoughts? This is too crazy. I must be really tired. I need to eat and get some rest. Maybe I'll watch some TV tonight. This weather is bad, thunder and lightning, hard to see clearly.
I made it home safely. The van was parked, I had my favorite pork sandwich in my hand, and now I just needed to get inside before I get soaked out here. The key won't work. What the hell? It's the right key. Did Deb stop by and fuck with the lock? There are lights on and the TV is on. She better answer the damn door.
Mike
Who the hell would be knocking on my door at this hour? Dexter is on and now this. I better see who it is because they won't stop pounding. I'd better look outside first before opening the door. Okay, put the TV on pause; get up off my ass to peek through the window. Holy shit! "It's Michael C. Hall, I swear it!"
"Come in, come on in. Don't stay out there you're getting soaked! I can't believe it, Michael C. Hall in my apartment! My god, what a surprise this is."
Dexter
Who the fuck is this guy in my apartment? Okay, it has to be Deb, another practical joke.
"Hey, Deb, come on out. I know it's you. Jesus, you never stop, do you? Okay, enough is enough," Dexter said, as he walked in and set his bag down on the kitchen counter. "Hi, I'm Dexter, Deb's brother. She put you up to this didn't she? Very funny! Ha Ha. She picked a winner night too. Had me going for a bit there. Sisters, everybody ought to have one, just one! What's your name?"
"I'm Mike. I live here, Michael. Very funny indeed. Did my boss send you over? Maybe one of my internet buddies? This is too good to be true. I'm your biggest fan. I'm watching Dexter right now. Really, who set this up? I really want to thank them."
"Michael? I'm Dexter, and this is my apartment. You are good though. You must be an actor. You sound so convincing. I would have believed you, but I know who I am and where I live. Very good. Where is Deb?"
"Michael, you are too much. This moment is worth a million dollars. You have no idea how cool this is for me."
"Stay right there. Don't move." Dexter went into the bedroom and then the bathroom; no Deb. "You said your name is Mike, right? Look, I'm tired and it's late. I've had a long day, and I have to be at work early tomorrow to finish some tests for Batista. I don't mean to be rude, but you need to leave. Tell Deb you did good!"
"Michael, I really do live here. This is my place and this is no joke. You being here is a huge surprise for me!"
"My name is Dexter, not Michael." Dexter gave Mike a look that meant business.
"Okay, look at this over here, my mail. Look at the address and the name. It's all there. I have the lease. My driver's license. I have everything that proves I live here and I am Mike."
Dexter walked over to his desk, and went through the mail. Oh my god. What's happening? This can't be. This is my apartment, but all of this says it's his. Wait, the air conditioner. Dexter walked over and pulled the front off of the air conditioner and reached in to grab his slide box--nothing there. He put the front cover back on, and slowly turned to face Mike. Dexter had just exposed his hiding place to Mike, but nothing was there!
"Mike, this is not right. I am Dexter Morgan, not Michael whoever. You said you know me but have never met me. You said you were watching me on TV. How do you explain that? I see all of my furniture here. I know this is my apartment. It's mine but it's not? What the fuck is going on?"
Mike
Mike knew that Michael was not himself, and took a different tact. Michael was really worried, looking scared and bewildered.
"Okay, Dexter, let me start from the beginning. Have a seat on the couch if that's okay? Here's a beer to go with your pork sandwich. Sit, relax, and listen." Mike opened his own beer and sat on the other end of the couch.
"Dexter, do you remember Rita getting pregnant, then you two bought a new home and moved in together?"
"No. Why would you ask something like that?"
Mike thought about Michael's last response. Not only does he not remember who he really is, he doesn't remember season three either.
"Dexter, I don't know what is going on here, either. This is as big of a surprise to me as it is to you. Right now we both have a different view of reality. We are both here but based on what each of us is saying, one of us shouldn't be. I am not part of a joke on you, Dexter."
Dexter sat there listening to Mike wondering what could be wrong. Does one of us have a memory problem? Did one of us have an accident, a head injury maybe? Mike could see that Michael was thinking, trying to make sense of their situation.
"Dexter, I know this is confusing for both of us. Let me start with this; the story about me getting this apartment. I moved to Miami about four years ago as part of a job transfer. I set up shop in a small apartment and went about my business. Just bear with me here as I relate all of this to you... I know it will sound strange."
Dexter started eating his sandwich, nodded to Mike, and then took a drink of his beer. This story better be good, or maybe you will become the one I take out without adhering to the code. Dexter's friendly expression never changed.
"The Showtime series 'Dexter,' your apartment, your home, was filmed here in this apartment in the beginning. This was your home in the series, on TV. After the show was launched in the studio, its creators built a replica back in Los Angeles--including the view from the front windows. After the replica was built, I was out exploring Miami and simply lucked out to find this apartment for rent. The crew was still here talking to the manager when I walked in. I made an offer for the furniture just as you see it, and we settled the deal on the spot. My lucky day! I have all of the paperwork in my desk."
Mike looked at Michael, wondering if he was going to handle this okay. Maybe the information about the filming and the replica would joggle his memory.
Dexter
"I have been sitting and listening, Mike, and all I know is that this is my home, not yours. Despite the story and the paperwork I know what I know. To me this is an elaborate game of some sort to test me. I know this; I will find out and deal with it."
Mike lifted his beer slowly to take a drink. He seemed to have fallen quiet while Dexter made a not so thinly veiled threat. Did Mike seriously know what Dexter was capable of? Going into action would be deadly.
"Mike, you mentioned that this show, "Dexter," was on TV. Let me see it." Dexter's expression was serious. This was a test. Will Mike pass the test? If he does I'm in trouble!
"Okay Dexter, no problem. Please just watch and then we will talk. What I have on here is the Showtime On Demand for Dexter, season 3, episode 12, the last episode of the season. By the way, seasons 4 and 5 have been authorized. Enough with me talking, here it is." Mike hit the resume button on the remote and watched Dexter. The Dexter series introduction played with the cast being listed, as Dexter shaved, then made breakfast, ate, flossed, dressed then left the apartment. There were the scenes being shown from previous episodes, then the start of the current episode.
Dexter sat up straight and moved to the edge of the couch as he watched himself on TV. He looked bewildered, almost shocked. He glanced over at Mike a few times, then stood up and went into the kitchen. Mike paused the show.
He took out another beer and opened it as he stood by the kitchen sink, thinking This is crazy. I see myself on TV as a character. I don't remember any of the scenes they showed at all. If that is me and Mike is right about me not remembering everything on the current show, what does that mean? What does any of this mean? How can this be happening? Shit!
Dexter walked back into the living room and sat on the couch again. "Mike, can we watch something from season one or two?"
"Yes, hold on." Mike put in the first DVD from season one and hit play for the first episode.
Dexter watched in disbelief. His life, his memories were right there. Oh my god! Mike is right. I'm in trouble.
Mike
After they watched some of the interviews on the DVD, they went online and visited the Dexter Wiki and the Showtime Dexter Boards. Mike felt so bad for Michael--he was truly bewildered and lost. He looked crushed. His world had just been turned upside down. One thing on the Showtime site caught Mike's eye. There was a Dexter cast and crew party being filmed live by E! in Los Angeles at that very moment. Mike thought that if Michael were to see the event and that he was missing in action there, then maybe they could take the next step and contact the police to get Michael home and cared for properly.
"Dexter, let's turn on the TV to the E! coverage of the Dexter party going on right now." They went back over to the couch and turned the TV back on.
What Mike saw next put a whole new spin on everything. There was Michael C. Hall with Jennifer Carpenter, hand in hand, coming down the red carpet into the restaurant. On TV. Live. Oh my god! We are in trouble now!
Michael saw the same images. He looked at Mike then back to the TV. This can't be happening!
Mike continued to watch the show with Michael, including the speeches. After it was over they turned off the TV and sat there for a bit in silence. There were so many questions with no answers.
Is this guy just a look alike? Can't be, he's a dead ringer. Poor choice of words but true.
"Dexter, we need to talk."
"No shit, Mike."
"I mean we need to come up with a short term plan, then try to find the answers to all of this. I don't know how, but you are not Michael C. Hall, you are Dexter Morgan, in the flesh. We need to get some basics handled first thing tomorrow, clothes, money, a cover story, open a bank account for you and a visit to several locations to verify what we both know, but need to absolutely confirm."
Dexter
"I understand. I want to swing by the Miami Metro Police Department, tomorrow just as a visitor, as Michael. If they greet Michael, not Dexter, then I'll know. Shit. This is weird. This is more than a time warp—it's total displacement. Even more than that, based on what I've seen so far, just following the logic, I'm just a character in a TV show played by an actor; an actor that at this moment is eating dinner on the west coast. I shouldn't be here. I'm not real, but I am. This is absolutely impossible, but here I am."
Mike watched Dexter struggle with the realization that he was not supposed to be here, in this reality, but yet he was here. Dexter's words hung in the air like unheard screams for help waiting to be heard and have answers returned with hope and finality. Nothing came, other than feelings of silence, dread, depression, and torment.
Dexter looked at Mike with anguish and his eyes pleaded to have an answer. All Mike could do was return his look with what he hoped conveyed his willingness to help find an answer and be there for Dexter in his moment of anxiety.
The lightning and thunder storm finally did its job and knocked out the power. Mike picked up the flashlight and pointed it at the candles and matches on the coffee table.
"Dex, I could use some help here."
After the candles were lit, Dexter asked the questions they had both been thinking about.
"Mike, why? What purpose is there to this? How did this happen? Who or what could make this happen? It defies all logic, but here I am. Any thoughts?"
Mike
"I don't know, Dexter, not yet anyway. But there are answers; we just don't know them yet. The hard part is to find the first clue. All I know right now is that we need to get some sleep to be ready for a full day's work tomorrow. Between your special skills and your forensics training along with my abilities with computers, we will find the clue that leads to all of the answers! Together we can and will solve this!"
Dexter appeared to have a glimmer of hope in his expression, but then it disappeared. "Mike, what happens to me once we know, and I do whatever it is I'm supposed to do?"
"Let's take one step at a time. First, we find out how this happened. Then we make sure you will be around to tell your grandkids about this!"
Dexter's expression was priceless. He had the look of a young man that had just been told he was going to be a father and had asked his wife, "How did this happen?"
Mike started to laugh and Dexter joined in. The mood was broken; a friendship had just been started with secrets and trust and a bit of humor. The two men would face the future together; there was no doubt about that.
They both had the night to think and regroup in the morning to start what would be their biggest adventure, ever!
Dexter
As usual, Dexter was up early. He had showered, dressed, and had coffee brewed and had eaten some toast before Mike ever woke up. Dexter put his only clothes on again, but felt a bit refreshed and was looking forward to getting started.
He turned on the TV to get a glimpse of the morning news. The date was off for him. He was missing about a year, curious, but considering everything else--this wasn't a really big surprise. Obama had won the election, oh man. Now there was history in the making, good deal. Dexter thought that he would have voted differently, but he liked the result just the same.
He went to the computer next, and did some research. No Dexter Morgan listed anywhere except for the character. Michael C. Hall was everywhere. No answers there. He looked up several of his cases and some of his victims and nothing there either, damn it.
He checked his wallet and found eight hundred dollars in hundreds, fifties, and twenties, a current Florida's driver's license, issued two years ago along with a social security card and several membership cards, all for Dexter Morgan. He had the current registration for his van too; interesting. All of the I.D. had this address. Someone must have gone through a lot of trouble for him, plus the fact they had created him out of thin air, or so it seemed--amazing.
His bag had his usual blood spatter investigation items, and wrapped in a leather roll-up case was a very nice set of Future Mundial Chef Knives. He found a small case with ten syringes; one empty, nine full. He had his locksmith kit too. There was another item of interest also; a folder with information on ten Miami Politicians and business men. There were names, pictures, home addresses, phone numbers, home and cell, plus work information. Each packet for each individual had a number and a date. Number one had yesterday's date. Number two had today's date. The others were numbered from three to ten, each one day after the next.
Dexter went back to the computer and did a Google search on the first one listed. A Mr. Smith, a local real estate mogul--he was found slain last night in his office, stabbed to death. His body had been found on top of his desk with a single fatal stab wound to the heart. Dexter's packet had an "X" drawn through the cover page for Mr. Smith. Number two through ten did not.
There was one more item, a key to one of the local motels. The tag had the name, address, and room number. This was a lead that needed to be checked.
He was pondering the possibility of a plastic surgeon changing his face to look like Michael C. Hall and brain washing to make him think like Dexter Morgan. That could account for the missing year, a theory in any case. It was better than nothing. It made sense in a way considering the Death of Mr. Smith. Was he an assassin or a serial killer?
One thing for sure, Dexter had no recollection of killing Mr. Smith. As far as remembering anything goes, there was no memory of renting a motel room, or any details connected to the packets on the individuals. Dexter spent the next hour on the computer looking into the individuals in his folder, looking for any connection or similarity between them. All that Dexter could find was that each one was in a position of power--either in the local government or business community.
Now Dexter had something to think about and leads to check out. This was much better than the void he had felt last night. He still had no answer as to why he came back to his apartment, instead of the motel room. Someone had set him in motion it seemed, but who and why? To what end? What had gone wrong or changed what seemed to be his plan to kill ten people? Crap, there seemed to be more questions and no answers.
He would discuss all of this with Mike when he got up. One thought though, could Mike be in on the plan to create Dexter? This was something else to think about. Caution was the name of the game at this point. Dexter knew one thing above all else, don't get caught. He also knew that anyone that had found out about him, his Dark Passenger, was dead; except Mike, at least for now.
Mike
Another morning in paradise, Mike thought. Mike rose to a sunny morning, and walked to the windows to peek outside--clear blue skies. Not a cloud to be seen and the morning was young. Ah yes, Dexter Morgan. Let's not forget about our mystery man.
Mike put on his robe and went out into the kitchen to see Dexter there going through his bag.
"Good morning, Dexter. It looks like you have been up for a while, as usual I would add!"
"Morning. . . .As usual?"
"Yes, as usual. You are an early riser."
"That's right. You know all about me from the TV. Damn." Dexter shook his head and gave Mike a small smile.
"Find anything interesting in there?"
"Yes, quite a bit, in fact." Dexter proceeded to update Mike on his bag and his Internet searches.
"Well then. Who ever is behind this seems to have a master plan I would guess. If you were to take out ten prominent political and business leaders in Miami, the effects on our community would be disastrous, maybe even chaotic!"
Mike looked at Dexter with a look of anguish and hoped Dexter could fill in the blanks here, but all Dexter could do was to stare back with the same look.
"Dexter, let me see that list."
Mike looked over the names and then it hit him. Each had been involved in one of his projects. Every last one! He had been providing his services to help each one of the men on that list that helped them get ahead in their respective fields. The politicians had used him to gain favor with the voters by providing big energy savings while providing more lighting making neighborhoods safer and the business men had saved thousands of dollars on better designs, by using him, while charging more to their clients for their brilliant and ground breaking ideas. Or should I say, my ideas.
Mike turned to Dexter and froze; his mind racing. This defied all logic. There was Dexter in the flesh with a list of 10 men that Mike had fantasized about killing but yet this was no fantasy! One of the men had already been killed for God's sake. Mike needed answers now just as much as Dexter did.
"Dexter, what could be the reason for this? How did this happen? To what end? We have to find an answer. We can't just sit here and wait for something else to happen, we need to take action. Let's go check out the motel and see what's there."
Mike didn't tell Dexter about his connection to the men on the list; maybe later but not now. Mike needed to gather more information first. He knew that if the police were to make the connection it could be his undoing. Jail? Worse? Oh God.
Dexter retuned Mike's stare and simply stated, "Let's go."
"They, whoever they are, could be watching the other nine people to see if you are following through on the plan. This may buy us some time before they figure out you are missing in action. We will take your van and visit the motel."
Dexter
"Good idea. I'll bring my bag just in case. Hopefully I have some clean clothes there and maybe there will be a clue of some sort."
Mike showered and got dressed. The two went downstairs to the van. Before leaving they took a look inside hoping to find something that could shed some light on their dark mystery but no such luck! Dexter drove while Mike thought about the list. Dexter turned into the motel driveway and backed the van into the parking spot in front of his room. They looked around and didn't see anything or anyone out of place.
Dexter got out first and went to the door. The key worked, he opened the door slightly and called in, "Hello?"
No answer. He went in and had a quick look around, no one there. Dexter waved at Mike to come on in.
There were some clothes in the closet and in the drawers. The outfits were all the same, Dexter's nightly hunting outfit. Nine of them there plus the one Dexter was wearing. It was obvious Dexter's mission had a beginning and an end. Would it be his end too?
"Dexter, is any of this familiar to you?"
"No, not at all. I have clothes and toilet articles, but nothing else. I don't see anything that would give us a clue to someone or some group."
They looked at each other thinking, "What group? " Dexter, did you just feel that? I felt like I was being sent your thoughts!"
"Yes I did! That's not the first time either. Just before I went to my, your, our apartment I had several thoughts pop into my head that felt like they had been sent to me, not my own thoughts at all."
Dexter relayed these to Mike and he confirmed that those were his thoughts. None of this made any sense but yet it was happening.
"Mike, there was an electrical storm last night. Maybe that had something to do with this. Plus you living in my apartment and knowing about me and thinking about me. If that is true, then my brainwashing has been, I don't know, maybe interrupted. I'm still me, my core self, but the extra curricular activity has been erased."
"I can't come up with anything else that would have changed your plans and your memory. Let's say that's it. When you don't take out number two on your list, the group will get worried. When number three isn't taken out, then they may start looking for you. Could we use this to our advantage?"
"Good point. What if there was a screw up at the second location and I left a sign that I was injured and left the scene? I could put some blood in the van then drop the van off near the docks. I could drop some blood at the edge of the pier. It would be like suicide. That may work. Any other ideas?"
"No. It sounds good to me. Either they buy into it and stop looking for you, or they don't buy into it. In either case it's no worse than where we are right now. Let's do it!"
Mike
"Leaving eight of your outfits at the motel was a good idea. You have a change of clothes and your trail stops at the motel and the dock. Let's hope it works. Let me help you with your bandages. You gave yourself a nice clean slice on your hand, buddy!"
"I've had a lot of practice! It will heal okay. No problem. Let's check the internet for the latest news on any killings going on."
Mike watched Dexter browsing through the various news sites and making notes. He was busy for the moment and this allowed Mike to have a few minutes to ponder about the bigger picture here.
The last twenty-four hours had been very different, putting it mildly. What would the next twenty-four hours bring forth?
Dexter broke Mike's thoughts when he started talking about his findings.
"There has been at least one other killing since yesterday of a prominent individual in Miami that I have found so far; not one on the list. Is this a coincidence? What do we do from here?"
"I've been thinking about that. I have one person that I met on the internet that I would like to contact and give her a little bit of information about what I have been through, just about you, nothing else. Maybe she can come up with a theory. It's worth a try. If not I can always claim I was just kidding. She knows I'm a big Dexter fan. Okay?"
"It's worth a try."
Mike went to the computer to send his friend, Kay, an email.
"Hi Kay,
Hope all is well. I need your help with something. Please get back to me as soon as you can. I know this will sound totally strange but it's true. Get back to me NOW and we can discuss this. This is that important!
I have had something happen that is, well, beyond belief. I will get right to the point. Dexter Morgan is here in my apartment. Not Michael C. Hall, but Dexter Morgan. I know that sounds crazy, but it's true.
There is more to tell, but I would like to talk to you on the phone about the details. I'm not crazy and Dexter is right here. We are totally baffled how something like this could happen. It's as though our reality has been breached. Hell, not like, it has been! Please respond as soon as you can.
Your buddy,
Mike"
Reply………
"Hi Mike,
I will call you now!
Kay"
After Mike got off of the phone he turned to Dexter showing little relief. He had just told Kay everything and she did not have an answer but had asked that they wait for a bit while she checked something; she would call right back.
Both Mike and Dexter jumped when they heard a loud bang on the door then heard someone yell, "Police." Oh my god thought Mike, how, why? Then the door shattered and flew open when the police used a battering ram followed by several uniformed police officers with guns drawn storm in as they yelled , "Freeze, don't move!"
The next few minutes were chaotic to Mike as he was knocked down then cuffed. He couldn't see what was happening to Dexter but did hear the police yelling but couldn't make out the words. Mike's head was spinning with fear and confusion. "I didn't do anything, it was Dexter, you have to believe me!", then he passed out.
Mike woke up in a hospital bed, cuffed to the railings. There was a police officer in the corner of the room watching him. He heard voices on the other side of the bed and turned his head to see two detectives talking.
"We have the knife with his fingerprints, the syringe with the tranquilizer, the list, and the items from the motel. We have his friend's story about his phone call and the blood from the pier matches his, most likely from the cut on his hand."
Mike looked at his left hand. It had a bandage. He looked out of the open door to his room and saw Dexter walk by looking in at him as he smiled then disappeared out of sight.
None of this made sense; then Mike remembered -- what he had wished for.
Quote:
There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone.